Halloween Hijinx
by HalloweenHijinx
Summary: Eight Cullens. Eight creepy campfire tales. Join bmango, mskathy, sorceresscirce, theladyingrey42, tuesdaymidnight, yellowglue, and yogagal/lawngirl for a fun week of Halloween stories starring your favorite characters from Twilight.
1. Intro: Lawngirl aka yogagal

Eight friends. A campfire. A dark night alone in the woods… Sounds like the makings of one cheesy horror story, right?

WRONG.

It's the makings of EIGHT spooky campfire tales. This year, join your favorite Twilight characters (Edward, Bella, Alice, Jasper, Emmett, Rosalie, Carlisle and Esme) as well as some of your favorite Twific writers (bmango, mskathy, sorceresscirce, theladyingrey42, tuesdaymidnight, yellowglue, and yogagal/lawngirl) for a fun week of stories, starting now and posting every day through Halloween.

To start us out, please welcome the beautiful, amazing **Lawngirl** (sometimes known as yogagal), who is here to set the stage...

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><p>"We made it!"<p>

"Toss me a beer, man. After that long ass hike, I deserve one!"

"Wow, it's gorgeous here!"

"Campstravaganza has begun!"

Taking in a deep breath of the crisp, heavily pine-scented air, Bella watched as her friends celebrated their achievement. Granted, it wasn't like they had climbed Everest, but it was still a significant accomplishment. Who would have thought that getting eight people up a mountain while they lugged a ton of camping supplies would have been such an ordeal?

After what seemed like forever, they finally made it to their campground. It had been a somewhat arduous hike, despite the fact that it should have only taken a half hour, tops. Instead, it was lengthened to over an hour when Alice swore she had seen a bear and refused to go any farther until she was satisfied that the coast was clear. Then Emmett stopped three times to take a leak after downing a gallon size bottle of Gatorade in order to prevent dehydration. While Emmett tried to stay hidden amongst some trees, Rose bitched out her cell phone for not getting any reception. She also bitched about it to anyone within earshot, which was...just about everyone. Despite these minor hiccups, the crew of eight eventually made it to the clearing in the woods that would be their home for the night.

An hour after their arrival, the tents were set up, a fire pit was created, and a handful of the friends were already down by the river, attempting to catch something edible for dinner. Just in case they weren't successful, Bella, Alice and Carlisle had stayed behind to prep some extra food. As they chopped vegetables for salad and wrapped potatoes in foil, the friends caught up, checking in with each other after what had been a busy couple of weeks.

The summer itself had been busy enough, following college graduation for most of them. Throughout July and August, the group of friends would meet up a few times a week for BBQs, beach trips, movie nights, or just to hang out at someone's apartment for pizza and beers. However, once fall hit Washington state, they seemed to see each other less frequently. Bella and Alice went back to school - this time as teachers. Alice worked as an elementary art teacher, while Bella had scored a job teaching English at a local high school. Jasper had decided to continue on with his schooling, and was currently working towards his PhD in History, specializing in the Civil War. While he had been allowed a break in the summer, he was now knee-deep in research, frequently spending late nights in the reserved book section at his university's library.

The rest of the gang was just as busy as "the academics", as Bella, Alice and Jasper were affectionately nicknamed. Carlisle and his wife Esme, the only married couple in the group, had moved into a new house, and Esme had fallen into a tailspin of renovating and redecorating while Carlisle slaved away as a resident at the local hospital. Carlisle wasn't the only Cullen who was putting in hard hours at work. His cousin Edward had been hit with inspiration, holing himself up in his apartment, working furiously on his second book in the hopes that it would follow in the successful footsteps of his debut novel. Their friends Emmett and Rose had finally gotten their car restoration business off the ground and had found themselves at the shop almost seven days a week, wanting to ensure that everything was running smoothly. It had taken both pleading _and_threats to pull them away from the city for even one night.

Finally, after weeks of back and forth emails between the friends, they'd manage to finalize their plans and set a date. A weekend of camping seemed like the best way to both escape and relax, and so far everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Jasper, Emmett, and Rose had indeed caught a few small fish, while Edward and Esme had gathered a bowlful of late-season blackberries. One by one they all eventually settled in for a delicious dinner around the fire.

As the day turned to night, they stoked the fire and broke out the liquor. Alice was in charge of whipping up her specialty cocktails, which were the perfect accompaniment to the s'mores they had all made for dessert.

"You know," surmised Bella, licking the last bits of sticky, white sugar from her fingers. "I don't think I've been this relaxed in weeks."

Thoughts of ungraded essays and lesson plans easily disappeared from her mind with the help of another of Alice's liquid creations, and Bella snuggled into the person next to her.

"Mmm...you're warm," she mumbled, earning a laugh from her friends.

"And you're drunk," laughed Rose as she slung her arm around the snugly Bella.

As the night wore on, Edward and Jasper pulled out their guitars and took requests, playing everything except Emmett's demand for some Backstreet Boys.

"But they're awesome," he whined before tossing some marshmallows at Edward.

"No," repeated Edward. "They're not."

"He's right, man," Jasper agreed. "I mean, we're already out in the middle of nowhere, so who knows what might be lurking out there. I don't need to deal with nightmares of shitty boy bands on top of that."

"Jasper!" Alice's piercing shriek could probably be heard all the way down the mountain. Her eyes grew wide as she tried to survey the dark woods around them. "You promised there were no bears!"

"I promise you, we are not in bear country. Now mountain lions on the other hand..."

Alice didn't even bother with words; she just flew at Jasper at top speed and alternated between pummeling the crap out of him and trying to bury herself in his arms.

"Aw, don't worry, Sprout," Emmett bellowed from across the fire pit. "I'll protect you from any mountain lions or bear or...AHHHHHHHHH!"

Emmett's heroic proclamation was interrupted the moment Edward surprised him from behind, scaring the crap out of the larger man.

"Not cool, man. Not cool."

Emmett gave Edward a light punch on the arm before grabbing him in a headlock and giving him a noogie, messing up Edward's already uncontrollable hair.

While Edward tried to tame his hair into submission, Carlisle grabbed a flashlight and addressed the group.

"I propose a toast!" he called out, waving a half empty bottle of tequila in his hand. "To the best group of friends ever!"

Everyone cheered in response, raising bottles of beer, cocktails, and the random marshmallow as a toast. Carlisle continued talking as Rose tossed a few more logs on the fire, causing a ripple of bright orange sparks to fly up into the darkness. A momentary lull fell over the friends, but the quiet did not last too long.

"Truth or dare!" piped up Alice, dancing around in her seat.

Her excitement was met with groans and eye rolls.

"You do remember what happened last time we played, right?" Edward raised his eyebrow in question as he looked directly at Emmett.

Alice chuckled as the memory of having to watch Emmett's pale white ass run by them, only to have him trip and fall in a pile of firewood that had been stacked behind Carlisle and Esme's new house. The couple had just bought the place, and hadn't even officially moved in yet, but had wanted to host a summer bash. After copious amounts of drinks and one small joint that made its way around the group, a raucous game of truth or dare had begun. Friends had kissed, shared deep, dark, embarrassing secrets and then...well, suffice it to say, nobody enjoyed having to pluck splinters out of Emmett's ass.

"Damn," groaned Emmett, bringing Alice's attention back to her friends currently around the fire pit. "I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

Everyone shook their heads and teased Emmett, who thankfully was good natured about it all.

"Well, then what should we do?" Alice was clearly bummed that her truth or dare suggestion had gotten the ax and had the pout to prove it.

"What about...ghost stories?" Edward asked in the worst spooky voice ever.

"Of course you'd say that," Bella whined. "You've probably got a million good ones in your head, Mr. Storyteller."

Edward rolled his eyes and waved away Bella's concern.

"Not at all. I just remember when our dads used to take Carlisle and me camping. We'd sit around late at night telling the craziest stories ever. We always had a blast."

"That's true," chimed in Carlisle. "It was awesome. Our dads always knew how to scare us. I still think I might even remember some of them..."

"I know a few!" Jasper boasted. "My gramps used to tell us some at bedtime. Scared the shit out of us, too. We'd never be able to fall asleep after that. My mama would get so pissed at him."

The rest of the friends slowly started to come around to the idea, getting excited as one by one, everyone seemed to remember a ghost story they had heard or loved.

"Fine, fine, fine." Bella finally gave up, seeing how excited her friends were getting. "Looks like I'm outnumbered. Guess I'll have to think of something good. So, what do we do? Just tell a story or what?"

"Oh! I know!" Alice bounced around as she shared her idea. "The characters have to have our names. I think it will make it spookier, and let's be honest, Emmett's already got the whole Frankenstein thing down."

"Mahemph?" Emmett's head swung up, his mouth full of marshmallows.

"Way to go and prove her point, Em," snorted Rosalie.

"Okay, sounds good," said Edward, refocusing everyone. "The people in the stories have to have our names. Oh, and the stories can't suck..."

"I'll suck you!" Jasper shouted in a horrible old school Dracula accent. It took him a second to realize what he'd said, but when everyone started laughing at his expense, he quickly realized the double meaning of his words. "No! Wait! I mean...aw, man. _You guys_suck."

While Jasper sulked in the corner, Esme piped up. "Let's get this show on the road! Who's up first?"

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><p>Tune in again tomorrow when <strong>bmango<strong> serve up a creepy tale of a haunted house, three boys, and the lengths they will go to to impress three hot girls...


	2. Chapter 1: Bmango

"I'll go first!"

Rosalie waved her hand in the air, gathering everyone's attention. She turned to look at Edward, Jasper, and then finally Emmett before a sly smile spread across her face.

"And I have just the perfect story..."

* * *

><p>It was a bright and sunny day as three teenage boys, Edward, Emmett and Jasper, hiked through the forested trails on the outskirts of town.<p>

They were on a mission. Actually more of a dare.

Three annoying, and if they had to admit it, highly attractive, teenage girls had told them a story about a haunted house in the middle of the forest. The one from which no one ever returned.

Emmett had scoffed, Jasper had laughed and Edward had recited all the reasons why ghosts didn't exist.

The girls had smiled to each other and given them the challenge: Find the house and stay one night inside. The boys had readily agreed, and that was how they found themselves tramping through the ever-denser woods, in search of this elusive haunted house.

As they followed some sort of map the girls had found in the library, they teased and taunted each other, playing pranks as boys do. They stopped for lunch when they were hungry, eating heartily from the stash of snacks that they had packed.

Edward perused the map again while they were stopped, looking at the trail and the stream that ran next to them, burbling over the rocks. "That can't be right," he muttered, turning the map upside-down and tilting his head.

"What can't be?" Jasper asked, pushing Emmett again as he tried to steal another cookie.

"There's no stream on this map. I think we're going the wrong way."

"We've been following the only trail out here, the one that started behind the grainery. That's what the girls told us," Jasper said, getting up to sit next to Edward and look at the map.

"Maybe we missed a turn then." Edward looked back the way they had come, the forest looking similar in all directions.

"I think we should keep going," Emmett injected and they both looked at him like he was crazy. "What? I don't want those girls to think we're chicken. Either we're on the right trail or we're not. I think we are. We'll find this house."

"Maybe Emmett's right," Jasper said, looking from Edward's shocked face to Emmett's satisfied one. "Besides it's a lovely day for hiking. How often is it warm and sunny here?"

Three hours later, as dark clouds rolled in and it didn't seem like they were any closer to finding this mysterious house, Jasper was regretting his words. Thunder rolled ominously in the distance as fat raindrops began falling through the branches above.

"We should set up our tents and continue in the morning," Edward said, folding the map into his pocket to keep it dry.

"No time," Emmett said. "We need to find a place to stay and fast."

They raced down the trail, peering as far as they could into the gathering darkness for any kind of shelter, anything to protect them from the rain lashing down.

"I think I see something," Jasper said excitedly, his pace quickening.

The other two boys followed eagerly, but they all stopped dead in their tracks when the dark shape in the gloom finally materialized.

Ahead of them was a dilapidated, clearly uninhabited two-story house, one of those that looked like it belonged on a plantation with giant columns in the front and a wide, wrap-around porch. The original color of the house was indiscernible, and many of the boards were coming loose or missing. The forest was slowly reclaiming the space, trees and vines wrapping around the corners and the chimney, climbing through the holes in the walls and boarded windows.

"It's some kind of shelter," Edward mumbled, not moving an inch closer to the building.

"It will keep us drier," Emmett agreed quietly.

A tree branch slid along the roof, making a high-pitched squeal and causing all three boys to jump.

"This is ridiculous," Jasper said, stomping toward the house. "We're cold and wet and we don't have to be. Come on!"

The other two boys exchanged slightly worried looks but decided that Jasper was right, it was just the girls' stories making them nervous.

"There's no such thing as ghosts," Edward muttered as he followed them, reminding himself that there was no reason to be afraid.

Surprisingly the door was still on its hinges and it swung easily open when Jasper laid his hand on it. After stumbling into the house, they shut the door and immediately felt warmer.

_It's just because we're out of the wind_, Jasper thought as they walked into the house proper.

The first room they found was a sitting room with chairs and couches and a fireplace with logs already in it. Deciding it was as good a place as any, they went about uncovering some of the furniture and attempting to start a fire.

After they had a warm blaze roaring in the fireplace, they began to relax and decided take a look around. They found some long, taper candles and lit them to explore the rest of the rooms in the house. On the first floor was a formal dining room, a parlor, a sitting room, a kitchen and a small bathroom. All of the rooms were furnished, and the walls still had paintings and black and white photographs of people. If they hadn't seen the outside of the house, it would have been difficult to say that this place had been abandoned for very long.

As they climbed the stairs, there was a slam of a door above as a sudden gust of wind blew out their candles, plunging them into near darkness.

"That storm must be getting wild out there," Emmett said, looking at the others cautiously.

"I'm sure it's just the wind." Jasper nodded his head and then gestured back down the stairs. "Let's go back to the fire, relight, and see what's upstairs."

They stumbled and tripped back into the first room, quickly relighting their candles, taking the matches with them this time. Upon their return to the stairs, no errant wind doused their flames this time, but they all were more careful and shielded the flames with their hands. Reaching the second floor landing, nothing seemed amiss. There were more portraits on the walls and several rooms, all with the doors closed. Cautiously, they approached one of the doors, opening it to reveal a neat bedroom with a four-poster bed and pink paisley on the walls. The next doors had similar furnishings with variation in the wallpaper or color scheme.

All except one. The door at the end of the hall was locked and wouldn't budge no matter what they did.

"Wonder what's in here," Edward said, wiggling the handle one last time.

"Probably just a storage closet or something equally boring. This really isn't as exciting as I had hoped," Emmett complained, leading the others back to the first floor. As they entered the sitting room, they heard the rain pounding on the windows and the wail of the wind outside.

"At least it's dry and warm in here," Edward said as he flopped onto a couch and extinguished his candle.

Jasper joined Edward on the couch. "And we can tell those girls that this place is just an old rundown house. No ghosts here."

"Well, ghosts or no ghosts, I'm going to go take a leak. Didn't we see a bathroom down here?" Emmet asked, standing and stretching.

"Eww, Emmett. Who knows if the plumbing still works?" Edward grimaced just imagining all the things that could back up from the old pipes.

"I'll go test it out then." Emmett left the room, taking his candle with him.

"If he makes that toilet overflow, that won't be cool," Edward said under his breath, and Jasper laughed.

"It'll be alright. We'll be leaving here soon anyway." Jasper picked up his backpack and started rummaging through the contents. "I do think it's about dinner time, though. I'm starving."

Edward's stomach readily agreed, and he hauled up his own bag onto the couch, trying to find the snacks his mother had packed. Soon, both boys had a small pile of food on the table in front of them and they picked through them, eating their favorites first. Unwrapping his second snack Oreo pack, Edward was suddenly aware of the overwhelming silence, the only other noise being Jasper's chewing.

"Um, where's Emmett?" Edward finally asked, not wanting to seem scared but becoming a little worried that the big guy had been gone too long to just take a piss.

"Maybe he had _other_ business to take care of," Jasper suggested, shrugging and popping another cracker in his mouth.

Suddenly, there was a resounding crash and a muffled scream from the other room. Edward and Jasper both leapt to their feet, packages and snacks dropping to the ground.

"You don't think that was-"

"Well, there's no one else but us here, so it's safe to say it was probably Emmett," Edward interrupted, his logic not making either of them feel better.

"We should go investigate."

"Yes, we should."

But both boys stayed frozen to the spot, neither making the first move to find their friend.

Jasper took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "Right. Come on, Edward." He grabbed his friend's sleeve and together they walked into the hallway, finding the bathroom easily.

Knocking on the door, there was no answer. Jasper tried the handle and the door swung open, revealing an empty room.

"What the fuck?" Jasper whispered, backing up into Edward, he turned and yelled into the hallway. "This isn't funny, man. Come on out!"

"Is Emmett missing?"

"No, he's just fucking with us. You know him."

Edward nodded, but he still scanned the small bathroom nervously before turning back into the hall. "Should we go look for him?"

"Naw, he's fine. Just ignore him."

Another loud crash from the second floor caused dust to filter down on their heads. This time they pressed themselves against the walls, eyes wide.

"I think we should go see," Edward suggested, thinking that they had better make sure that Emmett hadn't hurt himself at the very least.

Jasper shrugged. "Yeah, let's go check on the idiot."

Climbing the stairs as quietly as possible, they reached the second floor without any other noises or hints as to what Emmett was up to. They stepped into the hallway, noticing that the previously locked door at the end of the hall was ajar. Edward began tiptoeing toward it and Jasper snorted.

"Seriously? What do you think is going to happen here? A ghost will attack us or something?" Jasper strode over to the door that was partially open and pushed it, stepping inside to let his candle illuminate the interior.

Nothing could have prepared them for the sight before them. What was once a similarly decorated bedroom to the others along the hallway was in shambles. The furniture was in pieces, fabric ripped from the windows and there were dark red streaks on the walls, floor and ceiling. Streaks that were slowly running down the walls.

Jasper began backing up quickly, stumbling over Edward who was frozen in horror.

"Run, Edward," Jasper whispered once he found his voice. Both boys turned and ran down the steps, hitting the front door at the same time. Twisting the handle and pulling, they found that the door wouldn't budge and no amount of screaming or effort would move it.

"Come on," Edward said, beckoning Jasper to follow him. Returning to the sitting room, he drew back the drapes, trying to find another exit. Window after window was boarded up, no escape possible through them either.

"Back door," Jasper suggested and they tore off through the house again, passing the bathroom and finding another door in the old kitchen. Jasper grasped the handle and pulled with all his weight, cursing as it refused to open.

"What are we going to do? How do we get out of here?" Edward asked, panic causing his voice to be much higher than he would have liked.

"At least we need to-"

Jasper's words were cut off as both of them screamed in terror when a large shape leapt at them from a pantry. Edward screamed and Jasper tried to run but was held fast by a hand that grabbed his shirt.

As Jasper turned to fight, he saw the big grin of their missing friend, tears running down his face from his barely contained laughter.

"Oh, man. You guys should see the look on your faces..."

At this point, Edward realized that he had been tricked and tackled Emmett, knocking them all to the ground as he attempted to kick the shit out of his friend. Soon they were all out of breath and sprawled on the kitchen floor, Emmett still smiling despite the split lip.

"What the fuck, Emmett?"

"What?" Emmett looked between his friends. "I just jumped out at you."

"But why all the stuff upstairs? And the locked doors?"

"What are you guys talking about?"

Jasper huffed as Edward spluttered. "The blood on the walls? The bangs and screaming?"

Emmett eyes widened and he looked between his two friends, willing one of them to crack a smile. "I've been in this pantry since after I pissed. I thought you guys were fucking with me and made the noises."

"We can't get out of this house," Edward whispered, his fear returning.

Jasper looked from Edward to Emmett. "Sure we can. These doors are wood right? We'll just burn our way out."

At that moment, a cold blast of air blew through the kitchen, extinguishing their candles. They ran as a group back into the sitting room finding the fireplace there also entirely dark and the room noticeably cooler. The only illumination was the occasional flashes of lightning as the boys huddled together in the middle of the room.

"This is ridiculous," Jasper said, his voice a little tight. "We have flashlights."

The boys dove for their bags, each finding their flashlights quickly. As they clicked them on, the white light piercing the darkness around them, Edward began stuttering again.

"What is it?" Emmett said, looking around fearfully and swinging his beam of light around the room.

Jasper opened his mouth to tell the scared boys to settle the fuck down, but then he saw it too.

Two red eyes glowing in the dark.

Eyes that were coming closer by the second.

Edward let out a very unmanly squeal. Emmett braced himself and then turned the beam of his flashlight toward the eyes.

And there was nothing there, the eyes disappearing in the bright light.

"See? Nothing there."

But as soon as he lowered the light, the eyes returned closer than before. All three of them jumped back, Edward knocking over a large lamp that crashed to the floor. A great whooshing sound passed through the room and Edward fell to the floor, still as stone.

"What the fuck?" Emmett whispered as Jasper knelt next to Edward, feeling for a pulse. He breathed easy as he felt the steady rhythm under his fingers.

"I think he fainted," Jasper said before a powerful, cold breeze blew across the back of his neck and there was a soft thud behind him.

Turning very slowly, scared about what he would find, he found Emmett's prone body on the floor. Panic settled into Jasper's chest as he checked that Emmett was still breathing, although apparently unconscious. His options seemed limited - running would mean abandoning his friends but staying didn't seem like it would be good for anyone.

Making a decision, he took a deep breath and stood. As soon as he straightened, a cold blast of air knocked him back to the floor and the world turned red as he screamed. The last thing he heard as his consciousness faded was a faintly whispered, "All who intrude upon my house must suffer the consequences..."

The next thing he recognized was a sharp pain in his side, an insistent poking. A loud groan next to him, let him know that Emmett was still alive at least. He feared opening his eyes, wondering what horror he would find himself in.

"Come on, sleepy heads," a cheery voice rang out. A very _familiar _female voice followed by several _familiar_ giggles.

Jasper's eyes flew open to find the other boys blinking blearily in the bright sunshine and their three girls standing over them, Alice's finger inches from poking him again.

"Wha-" Jasper stuttered, looking around at the room, finding nothing amiss. No broken lamp. No glowing red eyes. Just three boys sleeping on the floor in front of an empty fireplace.

"We should know better than to dare you three. You always win." Bella pouted and knelt beside an equally confused Edward.

"Looks like the place isn't so haunted after all," Alice said, looking around. "But this furniture is pretty cool, and the portraits are awesome. Do you think we could take something?"

"NO!" all three boys yelled and then looked at each other.

"It's just we don't know who this stuff belongs to, but it's obviously well-cared for," Edward said, standing and stretching and trying to act nonchalant.

"Yeah, we shouldn't mess with what isn't ours," Emmett chimed in.

"In fact, perhaps we should get outside and enjoy the sunshine and that swimming spot you all promised us," Jasper said, gathering his stuff quickly and gesturing for the other boys to do the same.

"Ooookaaay," Rose said, eyeing them skeptically. "What happened to you guys?"

"Nothing, absolutely nothing. Boring night in a boring house," Jasper responded.

"Yeah, I just want to see Rose in that bikini she's been teasing me with." Emmett winked at Rose and she smacked him on the ass.

"Well, then come on big boy, and I'll show it to you." Rose giggled as Emmett picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

The three boys breathed a sigh of relief as the front door opened easily and they all exited the house into the clear morning air. Trying to forget the horrors they'd witnessed the night before, they just smiled as the girls chatted happily.

Jasper paused once, goosebumps erupting over his skin as he felt a slight prickle on the back of his neck. Turning, he saw only a slight movement in an upper window, a curtain waving in the breeze.

And two faintly glowing red spots in the darkness behind the closed window.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Big thank yous to theladyingrey42 and YogaGal for inviting me to participate! I had a lot of fun writing in 3rd person (eep!), past tense (ack!) and horror (which honestly scares me). Thanks also to theladyingrey for being the lovely beta-fish that she always is.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Bmango is the author of amazing fics like Ready For You, Tuesday Next and Beyond Duty. Check out all of her wonderful words at <span>http: www . fanfiction . net/u/1955967_**

_**In the meantime, please leave her some love, and join us tomorrow when TuesdayMidnight delves deeper into Alice's horrific past...**_


	3. Chapter 2: TuesdayMidnight

Why'd you have to go and make us faint, Rosie?" Emmett grumbled, as she finished up her story.

"Aw, hush up. I know you'd never pass out in real life. It was just a story."

Rosalie's consolation only went so far, but Emmett allowed her to whisper some sweet nothings in his ear to make up for it. Everyone else had been into Rosalie's story, and they were eager for more.

"Me! Me!" piped up Alice. "I'm next. My story is a little different though. It's actually true..."

* * *

><p>"It was originally known as <em>Eastern Pennsylvania State Institution for the Feeble-Minded and Epileptic<em>. It was supposed to be a hospital and school for the mentally disabled and physically handicapped, but what went on inside those walls was a horrific stain on the field of medicine and the treatment of mental illness. It opened in 1908, but it is over 30 years later when our story takes place."

They didn't know what we do today about disorders of the brain, so everyone who displayed any sort of abnormal behavior was treated the same way by the hospital staff. People who were under-developed mentally were housed with people who heard voices. People with melancholia were treated alongside people with violent outbursts. The only criteria for dividing the "students" was based on "intellect." The tests administered were biased and absurd, but in order to keep its status as a school, they needed some type of objective data, so intellect it was.

Eventually, the school became an asylum, a place to put any young person society didn't know what else to do with - orphans, the poor, petty criminals, and immigrants. By the end of the first year, the asylum was at capacity, full of people who didn't need hospitalization, but who mainstream society wanted to hide away.

Alice was somewhere in the middle.

She was a teenager in 1938 when her parents took her to Pennhurst. She had always been a bit out of step with those around her, and she never had any friends her own age. Instead of worrying about their daughter and encouraging her, her parents tried to cast her aside and hide her away from the public.

They started out with a boarding school, but it soon became obvious that Alice wasn't getting along there. The headmaster contacted them repeatedly, informing them that Alice was scaring the other students, and the school just wasn't equipped to deal with someone like her. He never said outright that Alice was mad, but it was implied between the lines.

The thing about Alice was that she wasn't insane.

She could see the future.

For years no one believed her. That all changed when she went to Pennhurst.

Her parents were desperate to get rid of her after the boarding school kicked her out, so after she returned home on the train, they took her immediately to the asylum. The doctors at Pennhurst examined her like all the other patients. They still tended to divide the students at the asylum based on intellect, and then by their disorders. Alice was polite, friendly, bright, and well-spoken, but there was something about her that seemed off to the doctors, so they kept her for observation. Soon they would have their answer.

They locked her alone in an exam room and then watched her from the two-way glass pane in the door. It took about an hour before she started calling out for the nurse or the doctor to come back. It took another hour for them to finally understand why her parents had brought her to Pennhurst.

After she realized that shouting would not work, she sat down on the exam table, swinging her legs back and forth, humming songs to herself for amusement. Then suddenly her back stiffened. Her entire body went rigid, and her pupils went almost completely black. She sat on the exam table as if in a trance for five minutes. The only sign of movement was her shaking hand.

It was almost as if she were possessed, and if the the doctors hadn't fancied themselves men of science, they probably would have seriously considered bringing in an exorcist.

Instead, Dr. James and Dr. Victoria went into the room and asked Alice what had happened.

"Nothing," Alice said at first.

"We know something happened, Miss Brandon," Dr. James snapped.

"It- it was really nothing," Alice said. "It- it happens all the time."

"What happens all the time?" Dr. James raised his hand as if he was going to strike Alice across the face.

She shrank back in fear and whispered, "I was having a vision."

"A vision?"

"Of the future."

"And what did you see in this vision?"

"You're in danger," she whispered. "Something terrible is going to happen to you."

They immediately admitted Alice and put her into a room.

Her parents signed the paperwork, giving their daughter to the asylum.

They never said good-bye.

Even though they separated the boys from the girls in their sleeping quarters, they were still allowed to interact. It was lucky for Alice they had this policy, because the only comfort she found at Pennhurst was in a young man, a little older than she, named Jasper Whitlock.

He was in the asylum because of his melancholia. He didn't have parents. They had passed when he was a child. It was his older sister Maria who raised him, and it was she who took him to Pennhurst.

Jasper had been admitted to the institution almost a year before Alice. He knew how disorienting it could be at first, so he took it upon himself to get to know all the newcomers. He noticed Alice immediately. During group hours in the common room her first full day in the asylum, he went up to her and reached out his hand.

Before he could introduce himself, Alice spoke sadly, "Hello, Jasper. You've kept me waiting."

"My apologies, ma'am," Jasper said with a grin.

Of course, Alice had seen him in a vision. It was he who was the reason she did not put up more of a fight with her parents. Alice knew many bits and pieces of the future. For as long as she had been alive, her visions had never been wrong exactly. Sometimes they hovered between possibilities until someone made a decision that set the course with certainty. She had seen enough visions to know that Jasper Whitlock had a good reason to be sad. She also knew her own time in the asylum would be unthinkable, but the moments she spent with Jasper would be the happiest of her life.

She quickly fell into a routine at the asylum. She would be given therapeutic treatment in the morning. This treatment included all types of behavioral studies and experimental therapies, including the very newly invented electroshock therapy. After these treatments, she would have lunch with Jasper. The afternoons would be spent in "classes," because Alice was highly intelligent and able to function well in spite of the visions. Not all the admitted patients were so lucky.

The best part of Alice's day, though, were the early evenings she would spend with Jasper in the group room.

They were close immediately. They spent hours just talking to each other, about their pasts and their dreams. Jasper had always wanted to join the army, though he had no hope of doing so now. Alice had always dreamed of being a painter, but her parents never allowed her paints. They were too messy, and being a painter wasn't realistic.

Jasper was never disturbed by Alice's visions, nor did he doubt them or think Alice was crazy for having them. Likewise, Alice wasn't alarmed by Jasper's own explanation of his melancholia. She was the only person who understood what he meant when he said he could feel the sadness of others around him. He took on the burdens of everyone else on his shoulders.

The asylum was very strict about girls and boys fraternizing, so Jasper and Alice were not allowed to do anything but hold hands under tables and sit close to each other, but the they both relished in these touches. Neither had received much affection growing up, so even the slightest touch was thrilling.

Even though they both endured their sometimes suspicious treatments, Alice's first days at Pennhurst were happy for them both. That would quickly change.

Three weeks after she was admitted, Dr. James was found dead. He was alone in his house at the time, but as he was in exceptional health, foul play was suspected even though little evidence was found for the blow he took to the head.

Of course, there was no way Alice could have had anything to do with the death. Rationally, the doctors would have understood that, but it was too coincidental for them not to react. They moved Alice into a different building, away from Jasper, and put a strict watch on her at all times.

That's when the visions intensified and the nightmares started.

She woke up screaming in the middle of the night. Her nightmares all took place inside Pennhurst. She dreamed of patients being underfed and neglected by their caretakers. Those deemed "feeble-minded" had it the worst of everyone in her dreams. They were beaten for not being able to take care of themselves. The most horrific nightmares Alice had were of these patients being sexually abused by the doctors and nurses hired to care for them.

When she tried to accuse one of the other doctors, they had to isolate her away from all the other patients.

She was moved again and put in what amounted to a jail cell. It was deep in the basement of the administration building. It had a tiny window at ground level that let in just enough light so as not to drive her completely mad.

Jasper was still allowed some freedom to walk around the grounds of Pennhurst. He would sneak away and go to the window whenever he could, usually after dinner. Though the window was to high for Alice to see out of, they still spoke to each other through it. Alice told Jasper about the dreams. She was not sure if they were foretelling the future, but she strongly suspected it. She had never experienced anything like them before.

The only time she was ever allowed out of the room was when the doctors came to examine her. The examination consisted of analysis, but mostly it was a lot of hooking Alice up to machines and electrodes without telling her what they did.

This continued for weeks. Although she had long lost all track of time. The only thing she had to do in her small room was wait for Jasper to visit and sleep, but that became torturous for her as well.

One night in late December, she managed to fall asleep early without struggle. Her dreams started out pleasant enough, because they were about Jasper. She watched in her dream as Jasper was taken from his room and into an unscheduled treatment session. Alice couldn't hear everything said in the dream, but it was obvious the doctor was displeased with Jasper's progress. When Dr. Victoria strapped him to the electroshock machine, the fear was obvious in Jasper's eyes. Alice tried to call out to him in her dream, but it was to no avail. The doctor set the dial up higher than she had ever seen it go before.

He flipped the switch.

"Jasper! Jasper!" She woke up still screaming his name over and over and over until she was hoarse, but it was too late. Jasper was dead.

Alice knew, instinctively she knew, the second Jasper has passed. The electroshock therapy meant to help stabilize his mood actually killed him.

After Jasper was gone, Alice grew more and more obstinate. She refused treatment. She would scream her lungs out whenever any of the staff came close to her. They continued to bring her food, but she would hardly eat for fear of being drugged. She didn't bathe. She grew increasingly feral.

The doctors finally started leaving her alone. It was a practice they engaged in with many patients, but usually not when they still maintained lucidity. The problem with Alice was that she knew too much, and the asylum was willing to let her die in order to keep her quiet.

Then one night, the night of a new moon, there was a distinct silence from Alice's cell. Every night previously, she had spent it screaming, but this night was eerily silent.

Some patients swore they heard the sound of shattering glass during the night, and sure enough, the only sign of her was the broken mirror in her tiny room. The glass shards completely covered the floor, crunching under the shoes of the nurse who found the room empty the next morning.

The bed was stripped of its sheets. All of Alice's meager personal effects were gone. It was like she was never there. It was like she never existed.

No trace of her or her body was every found.

To this day, no one knows what became of Alice Brandon. All they do know is that every evening at seven o'clock, the ghost of Jasper Whitlock can be seen walking down the hall in the building where he lived and out the front door toward the administration building, stopping outside the window to Alice's cell.

They say he goes to visit her every night, where he waits for her return.

* * *

><p><em><strong>TuesdayMidnight is the author of Seven Minutes in Heaven, Raw and Rosy and more one-shots than you can shake a stick at. She recently posted her Twilight Big Bang fic, Turn and Face the Strange. Check out all of her wonderful words at <span>http: www . fanfiction . net/u/1993632/tuesdaymidnight**_

_**Join us tomorrow when MsKathy tells us a story of real-life horror...**_

_**Until then, please show TuesdayMidnight some love.  
><strong>_


	4. Chapter 3: MsKathy

There was an eerie silence that passed after Alice finished her story. The only sound came from the fire that continued to crackle as it burned.

Everyone looked around at each other nervously while Alice sat cuddled up next to Jasper with a huge grin on her face.

"Um...that wasn't really a true story, Alice. Right?" Esme's voiced wavered slightly as she spoke.

Alice eyes sparkled as she shrugged.

"Alrighty then...who's next?" Emmett's loud voice boomed through the stillness, startling Rosalie who was sitting next to him.

Before anyone was able to answer, a loud_ snap_ sounded out from the woods, causing everyone to jump.

"What the hell was that?" Rosalie demanded, already on edge.

"Probably just a animal, Rose. Nothing to be afraid of." But Jasper didn't look too sure of himself as he attempted to reassure everyone else.

After a minute, and a few warming swigs of tequila later, Bella found the courage to go next.

"I've got a story..."

* * *

><p><strong>BPOV<strong>

I groaned and grumbled, hating the idea from the start. Everyone else in the group was practically a master storyteller. As I listened, I dug around in my memories and tried to think of the best story I could.

Thankfully, by the time it was my turn, I'd had more adult beverages and was feeling nicely warm and fuzzy. That might also have had something to do with Edward's arms around me.

"So, there was this haunted house," I started.

Everyone was distracted. I guess they expected my story to suck. Which it would.

"This house was haunted and, Jesus, no one really is listening, are you? Cock. Balls. Deep throat."

"What are you talking about, sweetness?" Edward asked, leaning down to kiss my neck.

"No one's even listening," I said, pouting. "Can we just go to bed?"

"Of course not," he said. He stood up and added more wood to the fire, which got everyone's attention. The crackle was perfect, startling and scary, and I smiled as he took his place behind me again.

After one last, long pull of my beer, I took a deep breath.

"This is a true story. You can ask Edward. It's what his next big book is about. He was doing all this top secret research while we moved in together, and everyone remembers how I thought he was cheating, right?"

All of our friends nodded, smiling and laughing as they no doubt remembered what a mess everything was. They'd all helped us move in to the cute little house on the quiet street. Most of them knew I found out Edward wasn't cheating, but we hadn't said a word about the subject of the book, just in case his interviews and investigation fell through, or the publisher rejected the manuscript.

"Well, Edward got all of this information on an old case to profile. There was a woman named Victoria that lived in a house on our street. He wanted to interview her, but she was really hesitant. Finally, he convinced her that he'd bring me along, and always interview her in public places. Edward agreed to a background check and all sorts of crazy information she wanted before she would say yes. This is what she told him, when they finally met. Most of it has been verified through court papers and news clippings.

"For several years, kids were disappearing, but only kids that met certain descriptions. Every year, one or two kids with the same visual profile would go missing – the last one was about five miles from our house. Eventually, they would find the remains. Neither of us had any idea about any of this happening on our street until we started to look into it."

"This happened in your _neighborhood_?" As Alice spoke, she visibly shuddered.

"The manuscript only recently got approved by the publisher," I said. "Everything happened long before we were even born and we had no idea. Let me finish!"

Everyone grumbled, but leaned a little closer to listen. I'd have loved telling the insane story to scare them if it hadn't been true. I pushed on, a soft squeeze from Edward's hand at my hip reassuring me.

"So this started about sixty years ago. Every year, the age of the victims would get higher. They started around six. Then eight, and so on. The age of the last victims were right around ours. Anyway, there was this sweet older gentleman living next door to a single mom, Victoria. He stopped by the house several times a day to check on her kid, knowing he was home alone before his mom got home from work. The mom was a little weirded out at first, but what could she do? The kid's dad was nowhere in the picture and she _had_ to work. Victoria started to have her boyfriend, Riley, hang around the house more so there was a male presence there. Victoria and her next door neighbor became really close friends, which surprised her. His name was James, and he'd go over and share a cup of coffee with her after a long shift, and gave her some grown-up advice she was lacking in her life. She had Riley, but her parents weren't in her life and she missed that guidance."

"He was really great," Edward interrupted. "She felt like she'd built up trust in him, and that made her feel safer about her son being a latch-key kid."

A sudden pang of something hit my stomach; I wasn't sure if it was sweet nostalgia for what they had, or the sickening feeling of what came to be.

"Well, anyway, he was sweet. She said he would talk about his family and how much he'd lost years and years ago. He never told her many details, just that his wife and son were gone, and she knew he was lonely. One night when the son had gone on a sleepover, he went over to her house, which wasn't unusual. He seemed particularly agitated though, so she asked if he was okay. He said he wasn't, but then he left without saying much more. Of course, the woman felt terrible. She figured he was grieving his family and desperately wished there was more she could do to help him. She hardly slept that night.

"She was so sad for him, but didn't see him again for a few days. The next time he came over, he told her it had been the anniversary of his son's death, and it all seemed to make sense. She made him some cookies and took them over later, but he was still acting weird, so she just dropped them off and left. When he went to her house the next day, it was right after her son had left for school and her boyfriend left for work. James came over and actually asked her over to his house. That was when she realized that in all the time she'd known him, she'd never been inside his house. Of course, she was enthusiastic and said she would be right over."

I took a deep breath and shifted in Edward's embrace.

"Do you want me to take over?" he asked quietly.

"No, it's okay," I said, then gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Anyway, she went over to his house. When she knocked, he was right there, answering almost before the end of her last knock. James opened the door a tiny crack, then pulled her inside. She realized why he'd never invited her over. The walls were lined with photographs and notes. Quotes and sayings, and all kinds of crazy shit. Most were of people she'd never seen before, but some … Some were of her and her kid. Well, mostly her. He gave her a cup of coffee, and told her to take a seat.

"After she sat down, he told her all the things he knew about her life. How long he'd been watching her. How she'd captured his attention like no one before. He'd watched her, _watched_ her while she did ordinary things like the dishes, and while she was in the privacy of her bedroom with her boyfriend. During his many trips to her house, he'd planted cameras all around. He knew … everything. He'd collected things from the trash. He knew she was..." I paused. I wasn't sure why I was so affected by a stranger's story, but maybe it was the alcohol making me extra sensitive, or maybe it was that she had been the same age as we were when it all happened. "He knew she was pregnant. He said he wanted to start his life over, with her and the new baby. To take back what had been taken from him so long ago."

My friends were silent and stunned. At least my story was having the intended scary affect.

"Her boyfriend, Riley, tried to call her that morning," Edward said, taking over. "And when she didn't answer at the house, he called work. No one had seen her that day. He said he just knew. He had a feeling something wasn't right, so he left work. He risked his job by leaving, but he explained that something was wrong and he had to leave immediately. He sped the entire way. When he got to her house and she wasn't there, he was devastated. He knew Victoria well enough to know she had no plans that morning and should have been home. He ran around the house frantically searching for her, and of course she wasn't there. He even went to James's house, but he didn't answer. Everyone's cars were still there, though, so he walked around to the side of James's house. He could hear Victoria crying, but he didn't want to just break in. What if he was wrong? What if the crying wasn't hers, and how would he explain it all?

"Riley left to get help, and said that was the hardest thing he'd ever done. He went to his house and called the police. Finally, as he recounted the details of everything, things were clicking into place. It had been James all along, he realized. They'd heard stories in the paper and on the news, and as he connected the dots in his head, he began to panic more and more. Had James already... Was he going to be too late?

"As fast as they could, the police expedited the paperwork and they were knocking on James's door. Finally, they shouted to let him know they were going to bust the door down."

"She was terrified," I said, picking the story back up when Edward seemed to stall. "She had no idea what would happen. He didn't seem to want to kill her, but what about once the baby was born? And what else would he want to _do_ with her? When Riley knocked the first time, James ignored it and moved them to the basement. It was so dark and quiet, and for fuck's sake, awful. She went into great detail about the basement when she retold the story; I got goosebumps just from reading it."

I shuddered at the memory of the other things she'd said, but would never tell them about.

"Some time later, she could hear steps above them. James panicked. He wondered – out loud – if he should kill her and run. She begged and pleaded, crying the whole time. She told him to think of the baby. He told Victoria that he would think of nothing else until he found her again. That was the last time she saw him."

"This guy is still out there?" Jasper asked.

I nodded. "Well, he's probably dead by now... maybe."

"Jesus," Alice swore. "Wait, how old would he be?"

"In his eighties, I guess?" I thought about the math in my head for a minute.

"Ninety-one," Edward said. "It totally creeps me out that this guy was in our town, and still could be. No one would recognize him anymore. Victoria and Riley live in another state with their children. They got married after they fled."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Thank you to yoga and TLiG for asking me to be a part of this project. I am so, so humbled and honored. Thank you to TwilightMundi, who went above and beyond the things a beta should ever have to do for me on this one.

* * *

><p><em><strong>MsKathy is the author of so many lovely fics, including The Trip Home, The Discovery of Bella Swan and her current WIP, Yes, Mistress. Read all her fabulous words at <span>http: www . fanfiction . net/u/1691296/mskathy**_

_**Tune in tomorrow when theladyingrey42 takes us back in time for a tale of vengeful spirits...**_


	5. Chapter 4: TheLadyInGrey42

Everyone sat around, spooked by Bella's story. A piercing shriek from the forest quickly got them speaking.

"What the fuck was that?"

"Who's there?"

"I want to go home!"

"Mommy!"

Everyone spoke at once, huddling closer together. Finally Jasper stood up, and using his flashlight did a quick sweep of the surrounding area.

"It's fine guys. I didn't see a thing, I swear. It was probably just an owl or something. Nothing to be afraid of."

Rose shot Jasper the stink eye, clearly not believing him as she burrowed into Emmett's embrace. Esme wrapped her hand around Carlisle's, but after a few seconds she gave it a squeeze and then let it go.

"Okay. I'll go next. Mine's a bit of a historical tale..."

* * *

><p>Once upon a time, in seventeenth century England, there was a young minister named Carlisle Cullen who had just received his appointment as an assistant minister for one of the largest cathedrals in London.<p>

The day he arrived, he was greeted by a mute hunchback in a dark robe who ushered him inside. The man led Carlisle through the sanctuary, past the rows of glowing candles and through the dimly lit stone halls to the rectory. Upon arriving at the end of the hall, the hunchback knocked three times and then pushed open a door, revealing a spare office, scrolls of parchment and illuminated manuscripts scattered over every surface, and the whole of the place awash in the pale glow of the late afternoon sun.

Another man sat behind a huge desk, quill in hand. His sharp, blue eyes lifted to take in the visitors. As recognition spread across his face, he sat up straighter and twisted his mouth up into a low smile. "Brother Emmett. Thank you." His gaze shifted to Carlisle. "You must be Father Cullen."

Carlisle wiped his palm on his cassock and nodded. "Bishop Evenson?"

"Yes, son. Brother Emmett? Will you take Father Cullen's things to his room?"

The hunchback bowed and reached for Carlisle's bags. With a silent grace, he swept out of the room, leaving Carlisle along with the bishop.

"Come now, son. Sit down."

Carlisle did as he was bade, taking the chair opposite the bishop's in front of the desk. There was something about the bishop's keen, hard eyes that tickled the back of Carlisle's brain, making him nervous without entirely knowing why. "I wanted to thank you for having me. It is an honor—"

"Yes, yes, of course," the bishop said dismissively. "But it will be hard work as well."

Carlisle raised an eyebrow, taken aback. While he was not averse to labors of the body, he had expected the priesthood to be an exercise of the mind and spirit. As he listened, the bishop began to outline the long list of his duties, from assisting with sermons to paying visits to ailing parishioners to tending to the cathedral's grounds. He recited them without pause, and Carlisle's head began to swim.

"Lastly," the bishop said, eyes glowing darkly, "as the newest among us, you will take on the care of the bell tower."

Carlisle swallowed hard. He could see the tower through the rippling glass of the window. It was imposing in its height, a great stone structure that loomed high above the rooftops of the city.

"Your Grace—" he began, but the bishop cut him off.

"Ah, Brother Emmett. Just in time." Carlisle looked over his shoulder to see the monk looming in the doorway again. Bishop Evenson continued, "Father Cullen and I were just finishing. You will show him to his chambers and acquaint him with his duties."

Brother Emmett nodded and stood aside, waiting expectantly for Carlisle to follow him. Too nervous to lodge his concerns, the young minister stood and bowed before taking his leave.

The tour through the cathedral grounds was a strange and silent one, culminating in the iron steps leading up to the old bell tower. Carlisle eyed them with trepidation, then glanced back at Brother Emmett. The monk's gaze burned into his, dark with expectation and also with…a warning?

Heart pounding, Carlisle climbed the stairs. The only reassurance was the sound of Brother Emmett's footfalls on the steps behind him. Up and up and up they went, until finally they passed through into the bell chamber itself. Standing there amidst those great metal bells, Carlisle nearly forgot his fear, consumed with the awe he felt. The air was cool and crisp, and as he stood there, staring, a frigid breeze blew in through the openings in the tower walls, rustling his cassock and sending a shiver up his spine. He dropped his gaze from the huge clappers to the gaps in the stone and nearly staggered back when a shadow passed across the opening.

"Is that—Did you—?" Carlisle whipped around to look at Brother Emmett, but the monk's eyes were cast down, his hands held before him in prayer. With shaky fingers, Carlisle grasped the cross around his neck and shivered again at a whip of wind, a breath against his ear that sounded like a woman's voice. "This place," he whispered, then shook his head. It was a place of power, he sensed. A place where God and the Devil each laid claim, and he saw his work before him in the cobwebs and dust.

He would make it a place for God, here in His house. He would overcome his fears and sanctify the ground through honest work.

Seized by a fervor, Carlisle eyed the tools he would need to make the space fit for holiness and moved toward them, but then stopped, startled by the feel of Brother Emmett's hand on his arm. With dark eyes, the brother gestured toward the stairs, insisting in his own way that they needed to go. Reluctantly, Carlisle let himself be led back down to the rectory, where they joined the other members of the staff for prayers and their evening repast. He was introduced to two other priests and a handful of monks, all of whom called the Cathedral grounds their home.

Just as they were sitting down to eat, the bishop joined them. Out from behind his desk, he cut just as imposing of a figure, and the room quieted down in his presence, whether out of respect or fear Carlisle did not know.

Halfway through the meal, Bishop Evenson addressed Carlisle. "Did you enjoy your tour of the grounds?"

Carlisle cleared his throat and kept his eyes down. "I did, Your Grace. It is a place fitting for the glory of Our Lord."

"It is, is it not?" The bishop's eyes flashed with a certain darkness that caught Carlisle by surprise. "What did you think of the bell tower?"

Caught in the beam of the bishop's stare, unable to explain the sense of awe and foreboding he had felt up in that lofty space, Carlisle shook his head and demurred. Nervous laughter erupted around them, but the others were silenced with a motion of the bishop's hand.

"You had might as well know now. The superstitious among us," Bishop Evenson shot a pointed glare at the chastised priests, "have decided the place is haunted. It is a foolish notion, though. We have exorcised it fully, and the light has been brought into the shadows."

A shiver much like the one that had torn through him up in the tower echoed through Carlisle's spine. "Haunted?"

The bishop's face grew hard. "Put it out of your mind, son."

Only Carlisle could not. As conversation continued around him, he imagined the dusty recesses of the bell chamber, remembering every detail – reliving the eerie timbre of the air.

As the meal drew to a close, the bishop was the first to rise. He held his hand out, excusing the rest from rising along with him. "I bid you all a pleasant evening. I trust you will help Father Cullen find his way." He looked at Carlisle. "Should you need anything, please do not hesitate to ask one of your brothers."

The implication was clear. He should not go knocking at the bishop's chamber in the middle of the night.

Shortly after, Brother Emmett lit a lantern from a candle on the table and nodded toward the passageway back into the residential quarters, his eyes intent on Carlisle's as he waited. Carlisle thanked the other priests and monks and followed the hunchback. Eventually, they paused before a door like any other. Carlisle stepped forward into it. The room was small and simply furnished with a bed, a chair, a desk and a chest of drawers. Resting on the stone floor beside the bed were Carlisle's few bags.

Carlisle turned to thank the monk, exhaling out in surprise when the man was already gone, the door swinging closed behind him with a finality that shook the silence and the solitude. Guided by the dim light from the lantern Brother Emmett had left for him, Carlisle found a basin of water waiting for him, and he washed up in preparation for bed

Only the priest could not find sleep. Over and over he turned, too many thoughts on his mind, memories of whispers and the feeling of a wind like breath on his neck, images of the bishop's eyes and a feeling that there was something the man was hiding.

Stifled by the warm air in the room, Carlisle moved over to the window and threw it open, reveling in the cool breeze stealing in from outside. Before moving to lie down again, he cast his gaze up at the sky and counted stars.

But then his eyes alit upon the top of the bell tower, the great openings in the stone.

And a figure.

A wisp of a shadow in the shape of a woman, passing across the night.

Carlisle staggered back and clutched his hand to his chest. Unable to believe what he had seen, he rubbed his eyes and then looked back again to find the woman gone, the air still, without a hint of an errant shadow.

Still filled with unease, he returned to bed, where sleep eventually found him. At dawn, he rose with the sounds of the waking household, and he joined the others in their routine of work and prayer. After the mid-day meal, he found a pocket of time and cast his eyes to the bell tower. All day long, his mind had led him back there, and he was now determined to investigate it for himself, intent on setting his questions to rest.

With an even deeper sense of trepidation than he'd had the day before, Carlisle climbed the stairs to the very top, where he found the bell chamber entirely unchanged. The cobwebs were just as thick, the dust as grey.

And yet…

Fighting off a shiver as the breeze swept across his neck, Carlisle began to move around the room, cleaning and whispering words of prayer. When he'd cleared a portion of the room, he uncorked the vial of holy water he had tucked into his robes and sprinkled droplets on the floor, asking God to shed his light there.

And so when a voice spoke into his mind, low and dark and feminine, he hoped it would be divine.

_"Murder,"_ it whispered.

Carlisle dropped the vial in his shock, watching in horror as the glass shattered on the stone.

_"Avenge me."_

Shaking, Carlisle rounded, putting his back to the wall and searching the air for the figure from the night before. "Who's there? Show yourself," he begged. When met with silence, he trembled and asked, "What do you want?"

It was the devil's work. It had to be. To even engage it was temptation, an opening into the fires of hell.

The silent voice breathed but one more word. _"Peace."_

But Carlisle would have no peace.

Shaken to the core, he descended the stairs two at a time, never stopping until he reached the safety of his chamber. He had but moments before his indolence would be noticed, but he needed the quiet and the space. Closing the windows and the door, he sank down into the chair beside his desk and clasped his hands before him, speaking in hushed tones to his Father for guidance and protection.

No answers came.

Even after returning to the work of the priesthood, Carlisle found himself distracted by thoughts of the voice and of the figure he had seen. He ate little and spoke less, and when night came, he shut himself in his room. Only, during the day, someone had been in to clean, and they had thrown the windows wide, leaving him a view of the night sky. Of the tower.

Of a woman in silhouette, ethereal against the blackness.

As far away as she was, Carlisle could feel her gaze piercing him, and in his head he heard the same dark whisper. _"Murder. Avenge me. Bring me peace."_

He cast the windows shut and sank into his bed for another restless night.

For the remainder of the week, the days and nights passed in much the same fashion. He ascended to the bell tower each day, intent on cleansing it of evil, but each day the voices crept into his head a little deeper. The figure of his waking nightmares failed to reveal itself in the light of day, but he could _see_ it in his mind, growing ever clearer, ever more haunting in its…beauty.

It shocked the very depths of his soul to recognize that the face of this restless sinner's spirit was beautiful.

On Sunday, he dragged himself from another sleepless night to prepare for service. Before the worship was set to begin, he saw Brother Emmett stealing out across the grounds, and he followed the man, staying a few paces behind him until they reached the foot of the bell tower. Filled with dread, he called out to the monk to stop, to wait, but the brother shook his head and cast Carlisle a look full of darkness and knowledge that no one should have to bear.

Carlisle stood just inside the doorway as Brother Emmett moved to the center of the great space and uncoiled the rope from its hook on the wall. The monk cast one long look up into the rafters before pulling down on the rope with a sharp tug. The ground shook with the peals of song erupting from the bell, calling the faithful to worship.

That was not all it called, though.

The voice appeared in Carlisle's head. At the first low tone, he forced his hands to his ears, desperate to push the devil from his mind. As he bent over, aching with the anguish in the spirit's words, Brother Emmett looked on, dispassionate but unsurprised.

The last peal of the bell echoed through the air, the haunting voice dying along with it, and Carlisle stood tall again and dropped his hands back to his side. Self-conscious under Brother Emmett's stare, he explained, "Loud. It was…so loud."

The hunchback seemed to understand that he spoke of more than just the bell.

Together, the two men retreated back to the church where they took their stations for the service. Carlisle fulfilled his duties, reciting the prayers and singing hymns, listening raptly to the sermon delivered by the bishop. As the bishop spoke, Carlisle noticed the other man's gaze lingering on a woman in the back of the church. To all appearances, she was ordinary. A commoner.

When it was time to present the Eucharist, Carlisle stood, bread in hand, and he offered the body of the Lord to all who came to receive. The woman he had spotted during the service presented herself without fanfare. As she took the bread onto her tongue, Carlisle studied her, uncertain what he was looking for. But he would remember her face.

After the service, he joined the other members of the church in tending to the sanctuary, and then retired to spend the Sabbath in reflection. He offered his words up to the Lord. But his thoughts were caught halfway in between the Earth and Heaven. They rested in the sky.

In the tower.

That night, he felt a restless energy throughout the stone halls of the rectory. It crept into his bones and sent him to his window. As it did every night, the familiar hint of shadow crept across the windows of the bell tower.

Only tonight, Carlisle could not resist. He could not pass another night without knowing the presence of that spirit. He had to see her face.

Dressing quickly, he stole out of his chamber, guided only by the light of his lantern as he made his way through the grounds. The flickering flame cast long shadows, throwing the stones and steps into stark relief as he ascended into the skies and into a madness he no longer knew how to control or name.

At long last, he emerge up into the whipping wind of the bell chamber. Pushing his lantern forward, he spoke into the shadows, asking again, "Who are you? Show yourself!"

The darkness answered with a quiet laugh, as soft as a song and as lovely as the sweetest spring bloom.

"Fear me not, Father."

From the shadows, a figure gathered from dusk and cobwebs, shattered glass and death. Grey and shimmering, the woman of his sleepless dreams emerged, a thin, pale face set in gentle curls of gossamer hair, a slim figure and hands the color of the moonlight.

He instinctively made the sign of the cross, but the phantom merely laughed, floating toward him unperturbed. A ghostly finger traced along the edge of his jaw and caressed his lips. "Will you hear my story, stranger?" she asked.

"Who are you?" he insisted.

"In your life, I was called Esme, but here I have no name. Only a secret. Only a terrible burden carried over from the way I left the world of the living, only to be cast into this purgatory, doomed to haunt the setting of my death."

"Then you are a spirit."

Her tinkling laugh flooded the space. "Do I look to you of flesh and blood?"

Carlisle shook his head. "Bishop Evenson said he exorcised this place—"

"The bishop can do nothing for my torment." Her pale eyes narrowed. "For he is the root of it."

"No. Surely—"

"Listen carefully. Bishop Evenson betrayed me. I was but a maid, and he lured me to his chamber with talk of my eternal soul. Of my sins." She choked out a dark, bitter laugh. "To speak nothing of him. Of his sins."

Carlisle's horror was a black thing. He protested weakly, "The bishop would never—"

"He lured me to his bed, and when I came up with his child, he lured me here." She drifted to the edge of the room and rose to float in the gap, with one foot on the precipice. "To this very stone."

"Come away," Carlisle begged.

She turned and looked at him. Her pale eyes glowed a fiery red. "He brought me to my death."

With that, she leapt, and Carlisle screamed, stumbling forward to try to stop her. As he reached for her, his hand closed not on her ankle but on air. Dreading what he would see, he peered over the edge into the darkness.

A cloud of light flew up at him, blowing his hair back and striking fear into his heart. The same lovely face, that same sweet visage returned, disembodied and twisted with anger as it shot through the night. Hovering before him, the ghost's face spoke into his mind, eyes burning, "I can have no peace. No rest. Not until I am avenged. Not until the bishop is dead." The face dissipated in a great grey cloud. But the voice did not fade. "This you must do for me."

Clutching his heart, Carlisle threw himself down the stairs. When he alit upon the ground, he made it only to the copse of trees beyond the tower before retching, emptying himself. But the fear lingered, the horror at the possession of that terrible charge.

_"This you must do for me."_

The next few nights, Carlisle neither ate nor slept. He staggered through his days, shaking off the looks of concern cast upon him by the other priests and ignoring the darker, more knowing ones of Brother Emmett. By the following Sunday, he was a wreck, a shivering mass of nerves standing in the front of the church, going through the motions of the ritual of worship that once brought him such solace, but which now was but another torment. During the service, he thought he caught a glimpse of the spectral figure from the tower amongst the faces in the pews, but every time he turned around, it proved to be a trick of the light.

When the woman from the previous week came forth to receive the sacrament, Carlisle looked on her with hard eyes, suddenly seeing connections in his head, a trail of unsettled dust leading from her pew to the bishop's bed. In his mind, he heard an aching whisper, _"How many more must pay for his sins?"_

He tried to shake it off, needing proof, still unwilling to believe the evil that lay before his eyes. The evil that hid here in the sanctuary that was meant to be the house of the Lord.

How deep did the corruption go?

That night, as he tossed and turned, the voices played inside his head, ever louder, but then in a flash they turned.

"_No!_" the voice whispered in his head. "_Please!_"

And then there was another voice. A lower, deeper one. A voice he knew. "_You've left me no choice, Esme."_

_"Your Grace, I beg you! It is your own flesh and blood. I would not tell a soul. I promise!"_

Carlisle leapt from his bed and raced to the window. Straining his eyes, he looked to the top of the bell tower. To his horror, he saw not one shadow, but two.

As the argument continued to play out inside his mind, Carlisle pulled on his robes and then flew through the corridors, praying only that he would not be too late. Across the courtyard and up the stairs, he ran. When he reached the bell chamber, he braced himself against the bile rising in his throat and the ferocity of the wind, the volume of the voice screaming in his mind.

The bishop stood before the gap in the stone, the lady from his sleepless dreams standing in the very spot where the ghost had stood before she jumped. Only, instead of smoke and dust, she was flesh and bone, her face twisted in terror, the bishop's hand curled tightly around her throat.

But her eyes were still red.

Carlisle strode forward, shouting to the bishop to stop, to not do this evil deed, but before he could reach the couple, the bishop turned and looked at Carlisle, an anguished look on his face.

"I know not what I do," the bishop groaned.

And then in one swift motion, he let the woman drop.

Carlisle lunged forward, reaching gasping, eyes filling with tears at the tragedy before him. The waste.

_"This you must do for me."_

With a gasping inhale, Carlisle pulled himself back up to stand over the bishop's crumpled form. He grasped the older man by his collar, yanking him up to his knees. "How could you?" he bellowed, his own voice echoing that inside his skull. "Murderer," he cursed. "Vengeance."

There would be no peace. Not until this was made right.

_"This you must do for me."_

The bishop blinked as if lost and coming to himself, looking up at Carlisle with a look of confusion on his face. "How? Father Cullen?"

Carlisle refused to be deterred. "How could you?" he asked again. "How—"

"I don't know," the bishop cried.

"Vengeance," Carlisle breathed. But this time his voice was not his own. In his reflection in the bishop's eyes, Carlisle's irises were red.

"_We must know peace."_

Shocked by his own strength, screaming inside the prison of his own body, Carlisle felt himself lift the bishop into the air, felt himself hold the shaking man over the precipice, out at the mercy of the cruel wind. "This I must do," he said quietly. Shakily. "For her."

_"For us."_

And then he let the bishop fall.

Before the man's scream had even made its way back up to Carlisle's ears, he was slumping backward, pushing himself desperately away from the edge, unable to look or to face what he had done. As feeling returned to his limbs, he held inside his monstrous hands the memory of hatred, of strength.

Of the power over life and death.

The young priest swiped a hand under his eyes as he curled down into a ball, there on the floor of the bell tower. For a moment, he contemplated throwing himself off the edge. In the darkness of the moment, he couldn't even bring himself to pray. A sinner such as he had no supplication to give, no right to ask forgiveness.

All at once, he realized the silence of the moment. The silence in his own head.

Half-numb with grief and self-disgust, he peeled himself off the floor and drew up to standing. He staggered down the steps, uncertain whether to turn himself in or to hide the body and flee the country.

In the end, he had no choice.

He had no sooner turned the corner on the steps than he saw the glow of torches, heard the muttering of voices in the darkness. Waiting for him at the bottom was Brother Emmett and three constables.

One of them stepped forward. "Carlisle Cullen." Carlisle nodded, feeling all the blood drain from his face. "You are charged with the murder of the Bishop Evenson."

Carlisle let his limbs go limp and cast his eyes up to the heavens and to a silent God, surrendering himself unto His mercy.

As the constables escorted the priest away, Brother Emmett looked on, pitying the poor wretch. Only when the monk was alone in the courtyard did he unfurl himself, unkinking his back and rising to his full height. Throwing his gaze up at the tower, Emmett locked eyes with the figure floating at the top of it.

"It is done," he murmured darkly.

The figure nodded. Emmett drew his cloak about himself and cast his arm into the night and disappeared.

On the day of Carlisle Cullen's hanging, no one argued in his defense. Not even his own poor, tormented self. Standing before the gallows, he spoke but two words: "Forgive me."

The floor dropped out from beneath him, the square silent but for the sound of the rope snapping taut.

Shortly thereafter, the newly appointed bishop arrived at the church. As he came to know the members of his clergy and his flock, he heard the rumors of the bell tower. Never one inclined to superstition, he disregarded them and ordered the bell chamber to be cleansed. He never heard another word about the place, was never given reason to believe that there was anything amiss.

But sometimes, if the moon was just right, when he looked up at the lonely room, he could swear he saw two figures, two ghostly apparitions. A woman in grey, her pale face set in gentle curls of gossamer hair, a slim figure with hands the color of the moonlight. And a young, blond man in a cassock, a cross around his neck and a look of sorrow to his eyes.

As they locked in a lover's embrace, he turned away.

Some ghosts were better left where they lay.

* * *

><p><em><strong>TheLadyInGrey42 is the author of Our Lives Unbound, Love Amongst the Ruins, and about three million one-shots. Read the rest of her words at <span>http: www . fanfiction . net/u/1991508/theladyingrey42**_

_**Tune in tomorrow for another spooky tale...**_


	6. Chapter 5: SorceressCirce

Silence fell as Esme's voice faded, and everyone seemed to draw closer – both to each other and to the fire.

"Who knew you had it in you, Esme?" Edward teased. His voice shook slightly, though, and Emmett grinned.

"Not scared are ya, Ed?" Emmett's taunt broke off in a decidedly feminine squeal as he jumped a foot in the air and spun around.

Jasper, crouched behind Emmett, dropped the stick he'd used to poke him and fell back on the ground, laughing soundlessly.

"Ass!" Emmett roared, throwing a punch that grazed Jasper's chest.

Jasper held up his hands and tried to control himself enough to apologize, while the rest of the group alternated between chuckling nervously and scanning the surrounding woods.

As calm began to descend again, Bella shuddered, her eyes focused on a distant point on the other side of the fire.

Carlisle grinned broadly before assuming a serious expression. "I guess it's my turn. I think Bella will like this one…"

* * *

><p>It all started with the house.<p>

It was an ordinary house, complete with false shutters made of faded green plastic. The oak tree in the front yard had seen better days, but a weathered wooden swing still hung from a frayed rope, shifting listlessly in the breeze.

It had stood empty from before Bella was born until not long before her eighth birthday, when a family moved in with their brown minivan, banker dad, stay-at-home mom, and cute little beagle named Emmett. They had two kids – a boy named Jasper, who was twelve and much too cool to pay attention to scrawny little girls, and his sister Alice, who shared Bella's birthday and her braided pigtails.

Within a matter of days, the two girls were inseparable. They skinned their knees together and giggled at Jasper when he talked to girls. Every night, one of them had dinner at the other's house – usually at Alice's, due to Bella's single father and his inability to cook.

Weekends were spent playing soccer in Bella's backyard or painting in her garage. The girls' favorite thing to do, though, was to play with Alice's dollhouse. It was a massive wooden mansion, painted and wallpapered and outfitted with dozens of tiny pieces of furniture.

The only drawback, as far as Bella was concerned, was that it was in Alice's bedroom.

Bella couldn't say why she hated Alice's room, really. There was no one thing, no reason for it. She just felt as though someone – or something – was watching her. It started with a strange little tickle between her shoulder blades and progressed into turning her head ever-so-subtly to see if someone was there.

No one ever was, of course.

As time passed, Bella grew more and more uncomfortable. She found excuses, reasons they should play at her house instead, all expressed with the imperfect articulation of a scared eight-year-old girl trying to pretend she was anything but afraid.

So they baked cookies in Bella's kitchen with the yellow cabinets and built tents in Bella's dining room beneath the small, round oak table, and then little Alice would go home to sleep in that room that Bella couldn't even bring herself to enter anymore.

Every weekday, Bella got dressed and braided her hair before grabbing her backpack and tripping on her way down the stairs. She skipped across the yard to Alice's house, where her best friend was waiting, and together they made their way to the bus stop.

Until one morning in March when Bella woke up to find the family just… gone. Their brown minivan wasn't in the driveway, and Emmett wasn't baying in the backyard and pulling against his lead. Bella swallowed hard against the fear that tried to rise in her throat and resolutely walked across the lawn.

Her eyes were focused on the one small window into Alice's room. She tried to tell herself that she was just trying to see if Alice was peeking out, but really she was deathly afraid that something _else_ was watching. What that might be, she didn't know, but she knew without a doubt that she didn't want to find out.

Her scuffed saddle shoes rang on the brick steps, and the sound seemed to echo throughout the house. Somehow, Bella knew there was no one inside. Although she'd seen Alice less than twelve hours earlier, the house felt heavy. Abandoned.

But not empty.

Bella raised her hand to knock, but stopped short. Her hand shook as she opened her fist to press the doorbell, but she couldn't do that either. Shifting her weight back and forth, she bit her bottom lip and stared up at the empty window over her head. Tears inexplicably filled her eyes as she adjusted the straps of her plaid backpack.

And then she turned and ran.

**ooOOoo**

At first, Bella missed Alice intensely, but as the weeks turned into months, life returned to normal. Bella made other friends who occupied her time, but occasionally she found herself staring at the house across the way – and shuddering when something seemed to stare back.

The house stood empty although families came to look at it from time to time. Bella never asked why no one moved in. She was almost afraid that they felt it, too, which would make it all too real.

Over the years, Bella developed a habit of ignoring the house as if it weren't there. Her eyes seemed to look through it into the forest beyond.

Until something happened that made her see it again.

Not long after she turned fifteen, a sound disturbed her studying. The low hum grew in intensity, and she pulled out her earbuds to listen a little more closely. Frowning, she closed her literature book and went to the window, pulling back the curtain to peek out. Her eyes slid past the abandoned house and settled on a most unusual sight.

"What the hell?" Bella murmured, torn between confusion and intrigue at the sight of a green motorcycle parked in her driveway.

The lean rider swung his leg over the side and stood, taking off his helmet and running his fingers through his hair. Bella was sure she'd never seen this guy at school – she would've remembered that messy blond hair – but there was something familiar about him nonetheless.

"Oh my god," she whispered. "Jasper?"

As if in confirmation, the guy turned toward the house across the way and stared for a moment while Bella stood frozen at the window. Her heart fluttered with nearly forgotten panic as her gaze followed his. The empty windows mocked her, drying her mouth and filling her with dread.

Forcing herself to turn away sent a chill up her spine that she tried to erase by charging down the stairs. Her footsteps thumping on the steps only served to heighten her fear, and she stopped short before she walked into the entryway, struggling to control herself.

_This is ridiculous_, she thought. _What the hell do you think an empty house is going to do to you?_

She didn't want to answer that question, so she took a deep breath and shook her head, walking toward the front door. Irrationally, she wanted to avoid the stranger's knock, though she couldn't say why.

Bella pulled the door open just as the guy raised his hand, and there was no doubt.

"Jasper!" she exclaimed, throwing herself forward and wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

He hesitated a moment and then laughed, hugging her tightly. "Well, I guess that answers the question of if the Swans still live here…"

His voice startled her, gruff and deep as it was, and she pulled back, suddenly smiling shyly. "Sorry," she muttered, glancing down as she berated herself for behaving like a lost eight-year-old. "It's good to see you," she added, glancing up as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

"It's good to see you, too," he said with a tight smile. Bella noticed faint lines at the corners of his eyes and tried to hide her frown.

_He's only nineteen… why does he look so… old?_

It wasn't age, exactly, she was sure, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he carried himself with the same sort of tension she'd seen in Charlie. "What are you doing here?" she asked, both out of curiosity and for something to say.

Jasper tightened his hand on his helmet and cleared his throat. "I just…" He paused, licking his lips before he attempted another smile. "I just wanted to come see the old place."

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if Alice was here, too, but Bella could clearly see that she wasn't. Instead, she asked Jasper to come inside and busied herself fixing a snack and getting him something to drink. It was only when she sat down at the kitchen table across from him that she realized how quiet he was being.

"Is everything alright?" she couldn't help asking.

"As good as it's been for the past seven years," he answered cryptically. Before she could press for more, he said, "How've you been, Bells? You must be in… what? Tenth grade now, right?"

Bella nodded slowly, her heart fluttering again. She tried to ask about Alice, but that same strange sense of dread stilled her tongue. "Yeah, I guess you graduated?"

Jasper nodded and drained the last of his tea before placing both palms on the table. His fingers drummed nervously, and he alternated between staring at her and glancing out the kitchen window, through which Bella knew he could see the window of Alice's old bedroom.

"Are you back here for college?" she asked hopefully.

He barked a disbelieving laugh and shook his head. "No," he said as if to himself, "I just had to come back. Had to see if I could find her." His eyes narrowed, and he swallowed.

"Find who?" Bella's voice was barely audible.

Jasper's cold blue eyes fixed her in place as he said the one word she didn't want to hear. "Alice."

"I don't…" Bella began before breaking off abruptly. "What do you mean?"

Jasper sighed heavily, his gaze settling on the house through the window once more. "You remember Alice, don't you?"

Frowning, Bella answered slowly, "Of course I remember her. She was my best friend." When Jasper didn't respond, she continued, "Jasper? Why… why wouldn't I remember Alice?"

Jasper shook his head briefly and answered without looking at her, "Sometimes I wonder if she was real. Or if I just… imagined her…" Finally turning to face Bella again, he gave a half-smile. "But if you remember her, then I know I'm not crazy."

Bella couldn't bring herself to ask what he meant. She simply stared at him, searching for answers in his lifeless blue eyes. Unnerved, she realized she saw nothing in them – no pain, no fear, no hope. Her heart went out to him, and she reached across the table to take his hand, which had not warmed in the slightest despite his having been inside for quite some time.

Licking his lips slowly, Jasper glanced down on the table as he said, "That night we left. You remember it, right?" Bella nodded, though she wasn't sure he could see her. "Alice wasn't with us. I didn't realize it at the time. I don't remember leaving. I woke up in the van as the sun was rising, and she just wasn't there."

The lump in Bella's throat grew and turned icy, chilling her to the bone as she listened in horror to Jasper's tale. The words seemed to wash over her, but she still heard.

How Jasper's father told him they were moving.

How his father said Alice was fine and was staying with relatives they never named.

How his mother sobbed quietly the entire time his father was talking.

How they settled in Arizona and Jasper slowly realized Alice was never coming home.

Jasper described his confusion and his sense of loss. He didn't understand anything – especially not the way his parents erased all traces of Alice from their lives. Pictures of her disappeared from albums, and his mother grew agitated when she was mentioned.

"It was my dad that scared the hell out of me, though," Jasper said gruffly, pulling his hand away from Bella's. "I thought maybe Alice had been kidnapped or something, so I made all these posters describing her. I put pictures on as many as I could and drew them when I had to. I was planning to put them up around town. I knew it was a long shot – I mean, the last time I saw her was in Washington – but I had to do _something_."

Bella tried to nod in understanding, but her muscles wouldn't work. The sense of being watched was growing stronger, raising the hair on her arms and neck.

"He found the box of posters, and he just… he just fucking lost it. He made me watch while he burned them, but the worst part was what happened after."

Jasper broke off, and Bella looked up to find his jaw clenched and his knuckles white against the oak table top.

Her first attempt to speak produced no volume, but she cleared her throat and tried again, managing a weak, "What happened?"

Both Jasper's gaze and his voice were distant when he said, "He got in my face and told me to forget about Alice. I didn't have a sister. I'd _never_ had a sister. And the sooner I learned that, the better." Bella jumped when Jasper reached up, but it was only to run his fingers through his hair. The tightness in her chest made her lungs ache, and she suddenly wished that _she_ had never known Alice.

The thought was followed immediately by guilt, but she couldn't deny that it was true. Whatever was going on here, it was something she wanted no part of.

"He was so quiet. So calm." The despair in Jasper's voice made her meet his gaze again, but it was his emotionless, glassy stare that made her mourn the boy she'd known. Jasper seemed a shell of himself, and she wanted to do something – anything – to help him, no matter how small. "He loved Alice – I know he did – so for him to say that… I just heard what he didn't say. She was gone. She wasn't coming back. There was no reason to look for her. That was what scared me the most. What the hell happened to her?"

That last was said mostly to himself, but Bella whispered, "I don't know."

With a desolate half-smile, Jasper murmured, "Me either." He blinked rapidly before admitting, "I tried to do what he told me. He was so… bizarre, so completely… insane that I knew better than to push him. I stopped talking about her and tried to stop thinking about her, but I couldn't. After graduation, I went to college, mostly to get away. But she was still there. She always is. I dream about her sometimes…"

His voice died, but his eyes seemed haunted. Bella found it disconcerting to see _something_ in those blue depths after the vacant expression he'd worn since he arrived. His face suddenly seemed worn, as if he'd given in at last to exhaustion and stress, and Bella said quietly, "Do you have somewhere to stay?"

Jasper looked surprised by the question and shook his head. "No, I guess I didn't really think about… well, anything." His sheepish smile looked so much like the boy she'd embarrassed with Alice that she walked around the table and wrapped her arms around him.

He held onto her tightly, his body shaking with barely suppressed emotion. "Shh… it's okay, Jasper," Bella whispered consolingly. It never occurred to her to wonder if he was telling the truth. He was a boy she'd known, someone she remembered fondly from her days of innocence – some of the happiest days of her life – and she simply wanted to ease his pain. "You can sleep on our couch if you like. I'm sure Charlie won't mind."

Jasper raised one eyebrow, but the first ray of hope – no doubt for sleep – had entered his eyes. "I don't know about that. Some strange guy all alone with his beautiful daughter…"

The teasing brought a blush to Bella's cheeks, but her pleasure at the compliment faded just as quickly as the spark in Jasper's eyes. "I'm sure," she said softly. "He'll be home in a few hours. Besides, you're not exactly a stranger."

She felt a tingle of apprehension as she realized that, yes, he was a stranger. A twelve-year-old boy she'd known seven years earlier could hardly be said to be the same person as the man who stood before her, lost, confused, and desperate.

Bella pushed the emotions aside and set about doing what she knew best – taking care of Jasper. She'd had ample experience over the years with Charlie, and she got straight to work gathering blankets and a pillow. She couldn't find it in herself to make small talk, and apparently Jasper felt the same way. He stood in a corner of the living room as she worked, his thumbs hooked into his back pockets as he seemed to try to make himself unimposing.

For her part, Bella vacillated between spikes of fear and a strange sense of… not happiness, but maybe familiarity. She was saddened by the news about Alice, but her mind shied away from it, shielding her from the pain that she was sure would come later.

Or maybe it had just been so long ago that Alice was a fantasy, a half-remembered dream whose disappearance would produce nothing more than detached curiosity in Bella. One look at Jasper said that his pain was real, tangible, and life-altering.

When his makeshift bed was ready, they stood staring at each other awkwardly. Bella broke the silence, saying, "Well, umm… I know you're tired. I'm going to go upstairs so you can get some sleep."

Jasper nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Hey," Bella said, waiting until he looked up. "You'll be here tomorrow, right?" It was a ridiculous question, but she didn't think she could take having Alice's brother disappear as well.

"I won't leave without saying goodbye," Jasper promised.

Bella gave him a small smile, hugged him once more, and wished him good night. As she climbed the stairs, she couldn't fight the urge to glance over her shoulder – several times – but the sounds from the living room reassured her that Jasper was settling in to sleep.

Walking into her room and closing the door, Bella wondered if she'd done the right thing inviting him to stay. In truth, Charlie was likely to have a fit, and Bella groaned as she pulled her phone from her pocket.

_Might as well get the lecture over with,_ she thought.

There was no answer on his cell phone, though. She listened to his short voicemail greeting and left a message, explaining that Jasper was in town and was staying with them. She stalled as she tried to decide what to say about why he was there – but, really, what was there to say? It was not something that could be explained to a machine, so she hung up without any real explanation at all.

Tiptoeing to her door, she locked it as quietly as she could. She didn't want Jasper to think she was afraid of him, but her nerves were frayed. She'd heard too much, _felt_ too much, and she was more keyed up than she cared to admit.

She changed into her pajamas and crawled into bed, but instead of lying down, she sat up against the headboard with her pillow crushed against her chest. It was still far too early to sleep, but she wasn't sure she would be able to anyway. Warnings about the stupidity of letting anyone she didn't know well into the house were delivered in Charlie's voice, feeding off the unease she felt about Jasper's story and the ever-present malevolence she felt from the house across the way.

Reminders that Jasper was a friend who was hurting did little to calm her nerves. She found herself watching the clock, counting down the hours until three o'clock, when Charlie should get home from his shift. Maybe she would be able to get some sleep then.

Bella woke to the sound of her alarm blaring and sunlight streaming in through the window. Her cell phone was tightly clenched in her fist, and her neck screamed in protest when she tried to straighten it. Disoriented, she blinked before it all came crashing back to her.

She clambered across her bed to peer out her window, her eyes drawn to the driveway, where Charlie's squad car was parked. The motorcycle was gone, though she couldn't remember hearing it in the night. Rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands, she checked once more and then gradually allowed her gaze to skim the grassy expanse between her house and the one beside it.

No sign of Jasper.

Downstairs, Bella found the blankets she'd set out for him neatly folded on one end of the couch with no other sign that he'd ever been there – until she got to the kitchen, where she found a note from Charlie. He said he'd had a long talk with Jasper when he got home and that he'd agreed that Jasper could stay as long as he wanted.

Bella started to smile, but then she caught sight of the very last line:

_P.S. You and I are going to have a talk later. If you ever let a stranger in our house again…_

The implied threat made her wince, but she distracted herself by wondering what, exactly, Jasper had told Charlie. Somehow she didn't think it was the truth, but she had no way of knowing.

Time at school behaved strangely, lurching ahead and crawling by until she thought she'd go insane. When the final bell rang, she felt a mixture of trepidation and relief that grew as the bus carried her home.

She climbed down the steps at the end of the street, her eyes focused on only one thing – the green motorcycle sitting in her driveway. Trying to keep from breaking into a run, she sped up, tripping in her haste.

With her palms and knees stinging, she grumbled as she cleaned herself and limped a few steps before finding her stride again. Jasper was sitting on the front steps when she arrived, and she blushed as she realized he'd likely seen her fall.

Then she noticed that he wasn't looking at her at all. Instead, he was staring at the ground between his feet and didn't glance up until she said, "Jasper?"

Raising his head slowly, Jasper seemed to have a hard time focusing on her. His eyes were glassy, his skin sallow, and Bella couldn't shake the feeling that he was in worse shape than the day before.

"Are you okay?" she asked with a frown. When she went to sit beside him, he stood suddenly and stepped up onto the porch, running his fingers through his hair.

"Where's Charlie?" he asked in return.

"He's at work… is something wrong?" It was a stupid question but it was the only one she had.

Jasper shook his head in agitation. "I'm fine." As unconvincing as his statement was, his tone left no room for argument. He paced back and forth a few feet away from the door, putting Bella on edge.

"Do… do you want to come in?" Despite the shadow of Alice's disappearance, Bella had entertained thoughts of hanging out with Jasper – getting to know him – throughout the day. His erratic behavior was making her rapidly regret the decision to invite him inside the night before, much less doing it again, but she couldn't help herself.

_It's Jasper_, she told herself firmly, as if that would settle her disquiet.

In some ways, it did. She motioned for Jasper to go ahead and then followed him inside, where she again made a snack and tried to get him to talk. He said nothing, though, other than mentioning that he was hoping to talk to Charlie. When Bella told him that Charlie wouldn't be home until around three in the morning, he sighed and glanced out the kitchen window.

His blue eyes were stormy, but Bella did not ask again what was on his mind. It was clear he didn't want to tell her, and she was actually a little afraid of upsetting him.

It was almost a relief when he asked if she'd mind if he took a nap. She shook her head, and he started to walk away before he stopped short and turned to face her.

"Hey," he said softly. "Thanks. I'm sorry. I know I'm… hell, I don't even know. I'm not good company, I know. I wish…"

He bit the inside of his cheek as he held Bella's gaze. Emotions flitted through her so quickly she couldn't distinguish each of them, but she was left with an overall sense of sadness. Compassion.

"It's okay," she whispered.

He exhaled heavily and nodded, his face tensing briefly before he reached out and squeezed her hand. Then, without another word, he walked into the living room.

Bella spent a few minutes quietly cleaning the kitchen before the sense of being watch returned. She peeked over her shoulder, half-expecting to find Jasper in the doorway, and repressed the urge to groan when she discovered she was alone.

The same weariness that plagued Jasper was settling into her, so she climbed the stairs and again locked her door. It was early – still before dinner – but she didn't know what else to do with herself. She tried studying, wasting time on the Internet, listening to music – nothing worked.

She was sure she wouldn't sleep that night, and she was equally sure that she wouldn't leave her room. She felt guilty about not fully trusting Jasper, but how could she?

The minutes crept by, lengthening into hours with the shadows stretching across her bedroom floor. Her gaze continually returned to the house across the way, and her eyes roamed the features she hadn't truly allowed herself to see for years. The old swing was miraculously still there, though she wouldn't trust it to hold anyone without snapping. The windows were gaping black holes, made all the more impenetrable by the fading sunlight glinting off their dusty glass.

As the sun slipped behind the horizon, Bella changed into her pajamas and tried to pretend that it was just a normal night – which was hard to do as she felt an overwhelming urge to cry or at least call Charlie and beg him to come home early.

Somehow, sleep found her once again. Her exhaustion, combined with the subtle reassurance of having already survived one night with a very strange Jasper in the house, allowed her to sleep more soundly than she would have thought possible. She woke only once, though she wasn't sure when or why. She'd dreamt of a knocking sound, but when she strained to hear it, it was gone.

When she next woke, it was morning.

Bella repeated her routine from the day before, the growing sense of familiarity allowing her to relax slightly. In her search for normalcy, she was bothered by the sight of Jasper's blankets scattered messily on the couch, but she dismissed it on her way out the door.

By the time she returned that afternoon, she expected to find Jasper's motorcycle in the driveway and even prepared a few possible topics of conversation in the hopes that they could avoid the unnerving awkwardness that had pervaded their interactions so far.

But he wasn't there.

Bella frowned as she climbed the steps, half-hopeful that he'd gone so life could return to normal, and half-pissed that he'd left without saying goodbye. Listless, she wandered into the kitchen out of habit. As she stood washing her hands at the kitchen sink, she glanced out of the window, and her eyes widened.

"What the..." her voice trailed off as she dried her hands.

She couldn't say what made her take those first few steps, but once she started walking toward the open door of the house across the way, she could stop. Bella felt drawn forward, as though Jasper were calling to her, and she followed what must have been his path through the tall grass in the abandoned yard.

She kept her eyes on the house, afraid to look away or even blink, though she wasn't sure why. She stopped well short of the house and stared at it, her eyes scanning each window, looking for any indication of what she should do.

There was none, except for the front door standing open. Bella repressed the urge to cry as she accepted the invitation.

Large, clear footprints wound through the thick dust on the hardwood floors. Something about the tread told her they were Jasper's, although that notion was ridiculous – what did she know about boots? Still, her certainty never wavered, though his name died on her lips when she tried to call out.

All she managed was a strangled whimper that sounded far too loud to her ears. She trembled once from heel to head and then clenched her fists, standing rooted to the spot.

Bella knew she could not stand there indefinitely – whether she continued her investigation or went running back to her house, she had to _move_. So she swallowed hard and took a wavering breath, almost surprised when she took another step forward.

Her reluctant feet carried her past rooms with their doors standing open to reveal nothing but dust and the evidence of whatever vermin had claimed the home for their own. When she reached the closed door at the end of the hallway, tears stung her eyes.

In her mind, she screamed, railing at herself to turn around and go home. To not open that door and see whatever lay on the other side. But she seemed to have lost control of her body, and she watched in horror as she reached out, turning the doorknob.

The door swung open on eerily silent hinges to reveal Alice's room just as she remembered it. Footsteps crisscrossed the floor as if whoever had been here most recently had spent some time in this room. The bed linens, saturated with dust, were rumpled and thrown back. Alice's dollhouse was in the corner just where it had always stood, the dolls arranged haphazardly, much like they'd often left them.

Alice could have been called away only moments before if not for the dust and the hopelessly empty feeling of the room.

Only…

The sense of unseen eyes hit Bella suddenly, relentlessly, and she cried out as she turned to run. Something tugged at her jeans, but she pulled away roughly, hysteria escaping her lips in a wordless babble. She heard the rip of fabric though her trap held firm, and she looked down to find that she'd snagged her pants leg on a nail.

With a final, mighty jerk, she lurched away and streaked through the house and across the yard toward the sanctuary of her own home. Once inside, she slammed the door and leaned against it, her chest heaving.

Her rest was brief before terror overtook her, forcing her trembling hands into action. She went through the downstairs, closing blinds, locking doors, and checking windows. She didn't even try to control the sobs wracking her body, and she wished desperately that Charlie was home.

Curling into a ball on the couch, she shrank in upon herself as she tried to become as small as possible, and it was there that she gradually calmed. She took slow, deep breaths and carried on an argument with herself that began to distract her.

After all, what had really happened? Jasper had clearly been to the house and followed the same path she'd taken. So what if he hadn't come back after that? Maybe he'd found what he wanted – proof that Alice existed and that they'd left everything of hers here – and decided to leave. Maybe he'd decided to return to Arizona to confront his parents.

As her heartbeat slowed, Bella took control of herself once more. She refused to let her overactive imagination get the better of her, as it clearly had at the other house. Still, her hands were shaking so that it was difficult to focus on her phone's screen as she dialed Charlie's number.

_Nothing wrong with wanting to talk to him._

_Maybe see if he can come home._

Bella didn't realize just how desperately she longed to hear her father's voice until she was met with the tinny sound of his recording. Her voice sounded weak to her own ears as she said, "Dad? Dad, I… I was wondering if you could come home. I know you're working. I just… I don't feel so well, Dad…" Her eyes darted around the room as she spoke, continually drawn to the one window where she would have been able to see the house if not for the closed blinds. "I'm okay. I just… please?"

She knew she was making no sense, so she added that she loved him and hung up the phone. Closing her eyes, she attempted a brief pep talk, but her eyes seemed to pop open of their own accord.

A glance at the clock showed that it was still hours and hours before Charlie would be home. Bella bit her lip in indecision, wishing fervently that she had her license – and a car. Since she didn't, she reached for the remote control and turned on the TV. She couldn't stand not being able to hear every little sound in the house, though, so she turned the volume down as low as it could go and flipped through until she found a cooking show that she hoped would capture her attention.

It worked, somewhat, though Bella was jolted back to reality by a flash of lightning followed by a clap of thunder.

_You have _got_ to be kidding me_, she thought.

She didn't know whether to laugh or cry, but she settled for wrapping a quilt around herself and snuggling even deeper into the couch. Now that her attention had been shaken, though, her eyes drifted continually around the room, seeking the source of sounds she hadn't even noticed before.

Bella was past the point of weariness and was nearing hysterics again when she heard a very different sort of sound.

The low rumble of a motorcycle reached her ears, though she was almost afraid to hope it was Jasper. Indeed, she wasn't sure that she even wanted to see Jasper, especially under the circumstances, but again her feet made the decision for her, carrying her toward the door as the sound grew closer and then suddenly cut off.

She lifted up on her toes to peer out the window and saw the green silhouette of a sleek bike in the driveway. A figure, shrouded in shadows and distorted by the curtain of rain, walked up the driveway toward the porch, and Bella unlocked the door to let Jasper inside.

"Oh!" she said as her eyes widened in surprise.

**ooOOoo**

When Charlie Swan turned onto his street just after one o'clock in the morning, his own house caught his eye. He frowned at the light flooding out of his open front door, and his confusion grew into fear as he drew closer. Fear grew into terror, and terror dissolved into loss as he tried to make sense of it all.

He would never understand the message Bella left that brought him home early. He would never understand how she'd disappeared without a trace.

But most of all, he would never understand the small, muddy footprints tracking his front steps.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thank you so much to YogaGal and theladyingrey42 for inviting me to participate in this event and being endlessly patient. You ladies are awesome!

I am not a horror writer at all – in fact, I may or may not be afraid of the dark. *coughs* That said, I enjoyed this chance to get to push myself a bit, and I hope it turned out reasonably well.

This story is really about scaring myself. In my hometown, there was a house that always creeped me out, even though there was no reason for it. Every time I drove past it, I just felt my skin crawl, so imagine my dismay when I was driving around with a friend of mine one night and he glanced over his shoulder and said, "What the hell happened _there_?" So this story is a bit of me as Bella, never knowing what happened there, but damn well knowing that I don't want to know. I hope you enjoyed it!

* * *

><p><em><strong>SorceressCirce is the author of Just One of the Guys. She's also one half of WhitlockMasen, the incredibly slash duo behind stories such as Marked and Eye Candy. Check out her stories at <strong>__**http:/ www . fanfiction . net/~sorceresscirce**__** or her collabs at **__**http:/ www . fanfiction . net/u/2034985/Whitlock-Masen**_

_**Tune in tomorrow for a haunting tale of love and obsession from YellowGlue...**_


	7. Chapter 6: YellowGlue

"I...I've got one," Edward finally offered, and everyone turned to look at him.

"Ah ha!" exclaimed Emmett as he rubbed his hands together. "Finally, Shakespeare's gonna give it a whirl."

"Emmett..."

Edward's warning glance reminded his friend how much he hated that nickname. Emmett offered Edward a nip from his flask in apology, and all was forgiven.

"As I was saying," Edward continued after chancing a quick glance at Bella. "I have a story..."

* * *

><p><strong>The Girl with the Grey Ribbon<strong>

Bella Marie wore a little grey ribbon round her neck on the first day of kindergarten.

She wore the same pretty ribbon, tied in the same pretty bow on the second day.

And on the third.

And the fourth.

Every day, regardless of the weather or the colour of her dress, the neatly tied strand of spring-thunderstorm-cloud silk, never left her neck.

Kindergarten passed and after summer vacation, the grey ribbon returned with Bella Marie in the fall and remained perfectly in place throughout all of first grade.

And second.

And third.

While some of the children at school whispered behind her back about how strange it was, others asked her about it openly.

Bella Marie shrugged their curious questions away with a most sincere smile.

The little grey bow had been tied around her neck for longer than she could remember. She'd always worn it. Some of her earliest memories in fact, were of Sister Esme and Sister Renee, the only parents she'd ever known, gravely warning her against removing it.

Though she was still very young, she was more than well aware of the consequences of untying the ribbon. A plus B was simple logic in her mind and loosing the grey silk was something she had no intention of doing, or allowing, ever.

Her best friend, Mary Alice didn't mind so much. She tied ribbons around her neck sometimes as well, to match Bella Marie. Some days she wore a light honeysuckle yellow one, others, a soft plumbago blue.

Mary Alice never asked to trade with her friend, which little Bella was most thankful for. She didn't like saying _no_ to people she cared so much about, but she would most certainly have told Mary Alice just that. Sorry, she couldn't trade ribbons.

Edward Cullen didn't mind so much either. He lived down the street from Saint Anne's, the orphanage Bella Marie was raised in. They were the same age and even though they hadn't made friends until kindergarten, he'd known her since she was a baby.

The flawlessly tied bit of grey fabric never bothered Edward. In fact, it had quite the opposite effect on him than it had on most everyone else in her life. He was unremittingly captivated by the ribbon and he thought little Bella Marie was the cutest girl he'd ever seen, anywhere.

Throughout fourth grade, they sat beside one another at lunchtime, across from Alec and Mary Alice, and they were partners on science projects, and book reports. Bella's inherent sweetness and shy-spoken nature swept Edward right off his young feet. The first time she let her soul-deep, trust-seeking eyes find his, he knew without a doubt that he was hers and she was his.

After a summertime mostly apart, when they only were able to see one another very little because Sister Renee and Sister Esmewere rather protective of Bella Marie, the boy and girl were back in school once again, as fifth graders this time.

Everyone looked at the girl and whispered about her, like everyone always did, and sure enough, inches above her peach-Push-Pop-coloured dress, perfectly in place just below two dark auburn pigtails, the strand of grey silk was still in a beautiful bow around little Bella's neck.

At recess, Edward noticed it was almost silver in the sunlight.

The older they grew, the more fascinated he felt with the ribbon and the girl underneath it. He spent hours in their classrooms, admiring Bella Marie from his desk, a few behind and to the left of her. He wondered about the feel of the soft rainy grey colour against the skin of her neck, about how it might feel between his fingertips.

It made him think of birthday parties, of special-perfect gifts, waiting to be unwrapped.

Secretly, he wanted to write his name on the ribbon, or better, on Bella Marie herself. He wanted her to be his special-perfect gift.

The summer before they started high school, with granted permission from Sister Esme and Sister Renee, little Bella spent more time than she ever had off school grounds with Edward, Alec and Mary Alice. She made other friends through them and the more she showed her loving keepers that she and her friends could be trusted, and were good kids, the more freedom she was granted.

From the skating rink to the arcade, in and out of Whitlock's Ice Cream Shop, everywhere Edward went, Bella found herself wanting to follow. She felt safe with him, more than she'd ever even known she could feel. When she was afraid sometimes at night, in the quiet and the dark, of the secret that she carried, Edward was where she wanted to be.

Like home, she guessed. What home must have felt like.

One night, a few blocks from the movie theater, full of courage and curious adoration of his own, Edward touched the side of his pinkie finger to the side of Bella's.

Her tummy tickled like a ferris-wheel dip and he felt it.

She smiled and it made him smile, and he held her hand in his all the way to the side door of St. Anne's.

Little Bella swayed slightly, from her heels to her toes and back again, glancing at Edward in the soft street lamp light. He was a little taller than her already; she had to look up to find his blue eyes.

He was looking at her like she made the sunlight bright.

"Why do you wear the ribbon around your neck, little B?" He asked in his quietest and most patient voice.

Bella Marie couldn't bring herself to share such a sad secret with the boy who made her heart beat harder in her chest. She shrugged instead and looked up, giving him her eyes once more, and her most sincere smile.

Just being with him helped her feel brave.

"Maybe I'll tell you about it," she offered, touching her pinkie to his the way he had touched hers half an hour or so before.

"Someday."

Edward smiled at her, satisfied with _someday_. He nodded and gave her hand a small squeeze, and told her _goodnight._

He was not planning to part from her anytime soon and wasn't interested in rushing the girl whose trust meant more to him than anything. The ribbon was obviously very important to her, for at least one reason or another, and she was very important to him.

It was his hidden hope that _someday_ Bella really would perhaps tell him about the little grey bow.

_Maybe_, even let him touch it.

_Maybe, just maybe -_

He almost couldn't bring himself to give words to the wish in the darkest corner of his imagination; it was so strong, but _maybe, someday..._

She might even let him untie it.

The thought filled him with such tenacious feelings he had to tuck it away to keep from acting on it without her express permission.

Through their freshman, sophomore and junior years, Edward paid attention instead to Bella Marie's smile, her hopes and dreams, and who she wanted to be when she grew up. She went back and forth between an ob-gyn and a pediatrician, knowing for sure only that since she couldn't make babies of her own due to her silken secret, she wanted to be a part of supporting and nurturing the gift of new life.

Edward's brilliance was multifaceted and it grew as he did. He knew he could be happy and successful anywhere, as long as she was by his side. His talents and ambition were secondary to his love. She came first. She fulfilled him.

Bella knew this, because Edward knew this, and because the closer they attached themselves, the more openly he spoke with her about his affection and allegiance.

His whispers against her bliss-blushed cheek of admiration and faith, forever and after, and of all the wholesome and wholehearted ways that he loved her, gave little Bella - who was not so little anymore, but a delicately curved and almost divinely soft young woman in the back seat of his '56 Impala - courage of her own to open up and speak with.

She shared with him too, quietly intoned promises and longings. She held his kind blue eyes when he tilted her head and sought hers out, and she told him in truth that she loved him too. Just the same as he loved her. With her whole heart. All the way through.

Their senior year was full of football games in the fall, sledding and ice-skating through the winter, and university preparation in the spring.

She cheered him on from the sidelines with white pompoms and joyful love in her eyes.

He held her hand and thumb-brushed her ecstatic tears away when she read her letter of ivy-league acceptance to Sister Esme and Sister Renee.

Though the silk ribbon remained around Bella's neck and always somewhere in Edward's mind, he continued to focus instead on the secret parts of herself that she shared with him. He cherished her little grey secret every bit as much as her most innocent honor and he was ever-patient with his beautiful true love.

The night of their prom, Bella Marie wore a smokey-grey silk dress that matched the ribbon. Edward tucked a small and white gardenia blossom behind her ear and was the happiest, proudest, and most genuinely honored boyfriend-best friend to ever attend a high school dance.

The slip of silver tempted Edward all evening. He dipped his face close to her neck as they slow danced, yearning quietly to touch her silk, to feel it with his lips, his palms, his fingertips.

The pattern of his breathing, the warmth of his hands on her back, through her dress, holding her so close, made Bella feel like flying.

So high.

So light she was sure she felt her feet leave the floor.

After all the dancing and the secretly-snuck champagne with Alec and Mary Alice, after the moonlit and star-bright walk through Bella Marie's favorite and most in-bloom part of Saint Raymond's garden -

after the sounds she made when she was tickled so high, so happy by Edward's side, on a blanket in the grass, looking up at sparkling constellation shapes,

and after the lightest, softest kisses across her cheek, warm along the underside of her jaw -

he touched his fingers near her lips, parting to gather a better hold on his patience and self control.

Bella opened her eyes up to his and touched her fingers to her lips where his were still lingering. She swallowed a slow, deep breath and the slight movement of the muscles in her neck drew her true love's attention.

She could hear his reverence and his smile when he spoke.

"Tell me about your ribbon, little B?"

Though Bella cherished Edward most dearly, though she loved him more than she even knew how to say, she couldn't bring herself to confess such bad news to him, even if it was the truth.

_Especially, if it was the truth._

She turned a little and drew the tip of his finger between her lips in a small kiss as she shook her head.

"Some other time," she smiled bravely, watching his eyes, watching her.

Understanding and accepting, Edward nodded as he brought his lips to hers again, giving in to the soft feel of her open mouth and the little hums of delight that his kiss drew from her.

The deeper he kissed her, the harder her heart beat.

The harder her heart beat, the more Edward wanted to open her up and know all of her secrets.

He shifted slightly, moving more of his weight against her, his hips half on top of hers and he brushed his hand a little lower, holding her jaw, bringing the temptation of her ribbon slowly, carefully within reach.

_Just one touch._

_Just one, little, touch..._

"Can I...?" Edward trailed his request off almost as soon as he'd started making it.

Bella knew though. She was well aware of what he wanted and she wanted his touch too.

"Mhmm," she nodded, taking a deeper breath, kissing him again. "Yes," she clarified after a moment, shifting underneath the wonderful feel his weight. "You can. Please."

Curiosity that had grown into desire through the years, coursed quickly through Edward. He had to pause and swallow hard, and regather his willpower as little Bella stretched lovingly underneath him.

Tilting her head back.

Offering her neck.

Slowly, full of the most devout care and concentration, Edward slipped his left hand into her hair, underneath her head to cradle it from the ground under their blanket. Only then did he move his right hand, unhurried and unwavering, toward the neatly tied ribbon.

He touched the bow itself first, rubbing the perfectly unfrayed ends between the pad of his thumb and his fingertips before he moved closer.

"Easy," Bella Marie barely breathed, the muscle in her chest beating like crazy, terror and love, and longing twisting up inside her. "Be careful..."

"I know, little B," her love breathed back, brushing his thumb and fingers out, around and along the inside of the soft little loops of the bow.

"I know, baby," he assured her, his no-nonsense, honest-to-God promise and pitch comforting her deepest fears.

She relaxed in his arms, letting out the smallest, most enchanted sigh as he slid his fingers further, curving his entire hand around the side of her neck.

The sound she slipped thrilled him inside. He couldn't keep from dropping his face closer to hers and nudging her head a little further back with his nose.

Bella Marie tilted with innocent instinct and Edward pressed his lips to her ribbon in the softest kiss.

Her pulse picked up and so did his, and he was so close he could hear hers. He could feel it and just barely taste it when he parted his lips, touching his top to her skin and his bottom to her silk again.

She cooed at the new sensation, at the brand new touch and feel of such perfect, prudent love somewhere she thought she'd never allow anyone near. She curled her fingers into his dress shirt to bring him closer, wanting him so much closer.

Edward answered her speechless seeking with the sweetest hum, sliding his left hand from the base of her head to the back of her neck, arching her a little higher for his affection. He trailed lightweight kisses along the right side of her neck, then the left, feeling with his warm fingers where his warmer lips gently pressed.

The fabric along the back of her neck felt so soft and fit so right against his palm. He kissed and whispered, and touched, and felt her silvery secret and soft pale skin for what seemed like hours and somehow still not long enough.

He wanted never to let go, but drew together his strength and brushed his lips just above her ribbon one last time before leaning back to be the lionhearted best friend she needed, and deserved.

"I love you, little B," he told her quietly, nudging his nose against hers, breathing truth against her lips.

"I love you," she whispered back, reaching her arms around his neck to bring her smile to his.

They spent graduation day arm in arm for the most part and their summertime hand in hand.

In the fall, they moved to university together and finally free of St. Anne's and the nice, but still so confined space of his back seat, Edward and Bella Marie were more free to share, and show, and shape their love than they ever had been.

Her roommate in the dorms, Kate, was sweet as could be, but Bella spent most of her nights on the boy's floor, in Edward's room. In his bed. Under his blankets. Safe and warm, and so happy in his arms.

His roommate, Laurent, didn't mind. He spent most of his nights in his girlfriend's room.

Between classes and exams, their first year flew by in a sensational sort of flash. They visited Sister Esme and Sister Renee over the summer, and while they were there, one morning while Bella was in the shower, Edward sought her would-be parents permission for her hand.

The two sisters had never been more glad for the girl they'd raised as their own miracle-daughter. She was on the straight and narrow toward a bright future, and a young gentleman more pure and true than they could ever have hoped for, was giving them his solemn affirmation to always care for her.

With tears of joy in their eyes, they nodded their heads and hugged him close, knowing their beloved Bella was in the very best hands.

With their consent and their blessing, Edward returned with his girl and her ribbon to university later that same day, waiting for the exact perfect moment to ask her.

It came almost a year later, long after they'd moved out of the dorms and into a small apartment together.

Bella Marie was up to her nose in books and paperwork, and so much research all around her at their small kitchen table. Hair pulled up and pinned in place by a pencil, glasses on and pajama clad legs curved criss-cross-applesauce underneath herself, she was bent over her work.

Edward had just closed the door behind himself and was setting down a bag of groceries. It had been his intention to propose in a few more weeks, on her birthday, but at the glimpse of her neck and bare shoulders, save for a dainty slip of grey and two thin white tank top straps, he found himself unable to continue waiting.

She was aware of his presence, having heard him come inside their modest home, but hadn't quite pulled herself from her thoughts or her eyes from her books when he leaned close behind her.

"I went out a-wandering, beneath an unknown sky," Edward whispered against the shell of her ear, tickling her heart with lyrics from her favorite song. "The heavens all shook violently. You caught my eye..."

Bella let her eyes close on the medical terms that no longer held her attention. She hummed pure joy and let her head fall back onto his shoulders while her arms went up and behind herself, and almost around him.

He moved though, coming around to face her, to kiss her nose and hold her blushing cheeks in his warm hands.

"Strange fruit fell, struck me to the core," she beamed at him between kisses, giving him the next line.

Edward took both of her hands gently in his, pulling back a little to find her eyes as he spoke again:

"My heart became a single flame. It wanted nothing more..."

Bella blushed the colour of contentment, smiling at her love as he knelt on the floor in front of her.

"What are you doing down there?" She asked, messing her fingers through his hair. "Come back up here and give me more kisses."

"Give me this first," he smiled back, holding her left hand in both of his, brushing his thumb back and forth over the top of her ring finger.

It took little Bella a moment to connect his actions. When two and two fell together in her mind, she gasped a small breath and covered her open mouth with her right hand.

Edward borrowed more lyrics as he reached into his pocket with his free hand, his right still cradling hers.

"My heart has four empty rooms," he said, turning her hand over and kissing her palm.

"Three wait for lightning..." He continued, kissing the under-curves of each of her fingers.

"And one," he pulled a small white gold ring from his pocket. The tiny diamond on it caught in the light and shined bright like Polaris for Bella to see and follow.

He took her little ring finger in his hands and held it carefully, looking up at her as he spoke the next line. He was ready to slide the slender band into place, but needed just as much as he wanted, her trust and acceptance.

"One waits for you."

Bella was beyond words. Edward's name was on her lips, the only letters her mind could begin to put together and even it she found she couldn't speak. Her happiness was so great; it was all she could do to keep from melting down into the chair and into his arms.

She blinked to bring her best friend into better focus and as she did, warm tears slipped and fell down her cheeks. She laughed as they slid against her smile and wiped them away with her free hand, shaking her head as if to apologize for losing her composure.

Edward shook his head as well, graciously grinning higher than he perhaps ever had at his overwhelmed and overflowing sweetheart.

"I love you so much, little B," he told her in his softest-strongest voice, gently taking her right hand too, holding both of hers in both of his, as if to show her the feelings he carried that he was working to put words around.

"More than anything, anywhere, ever," he continued, watching her eyes fill up, giving her truth. "You're more than everything to me and I promise with everything I have, and am, and could ever be, to never, ever let you go."

Bella Marie's heart fluttered so hard she began to shake and Edward carefully secured his hold on her hands, steadying her.

"Marry me," he asked in such a hopeful whisper, brushing comfort along her trembling hands with his thumbs. "Be my wife, my all in all, my perfect, perfect, perfect forever..."

"Yes," little Bella bubbled out, grinning so high she felt it in her ears, nodding, reaching eagerly for him. "Yes, yes, yes, yes."

His laugh echoed with hers, absolutely elated pride filling all of him as he softly caught her left hand and slid the little ring into place.

"Yes, yes, yes, so much, yes," Bella sing-songed against his ear, arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he stood, and picked her up. "Yes, forever yes. Yes, yes."

So thrilled, so deep in love and so filled with unconditional trust, Bella Marie opened up completely for Edward when he carried her to their room just to kiss her _thank you, thank you so much_...

Made deliciously courageous by the little northstar-bright diamond on her finger, she worked her hands under his shirt, against his belt, breathlessly ready, keen to have and hold all of him.

The sweetness of her touch and the unwavering, innocent yearning in her eyes sent hunger pangs straight through Edward's heart, down deep into his stomach and gave him the strength he needed to go slow for her. To be careful with her. To make her shiver, and shake, and smile through sounds so pleased, so beautiful, he was certain for some moments that Heaven wasn't in the sky or on any other plane, but soft and open in their bed, wrapped warm around him, moving with him.

Blushing and bare, save for his ring on her finger, and the little ribbon around her neck.

Their engagement was lengthy and ever-romantic, both of them content to wait until they had their degrees, more than decent jobs, and a bigger home, better fit for their high spirits and fond devotion.

When the day finally came, Sister Esme and Sister Renee walked Bella down the pink rose-petaled aisle and placed each of her hands in each of Edward's.

Sealing their most honorable promises with one kiss, then another, just a little bit deeper, Edward and Bella were at last, beyond any shadow of a doubt, officially one another's.

They built their world together with love and laughter, hot summers in the sunshine and cozy winters, pressed together by their fireplace for all kinds of warmth. It was everything little Bella Marie could ever have hoped for and then some, and was the picture-perfect epitome of Edward's lifelong hopes and dreams.

In the second October of their together-life, on a Tuesday just a few weeks before Halloween, it was raining cats and dogs outside their window. Not wanting to leave the warmth of their bed for work or the world at large, Bella hit the snooze button for the third time and cuddled closer to her half-asleep husband.

"I don't want to go," she whispered into the crook of his neck, the soft scruff under his chin tickling her forehead. "I want to stay right here, all day."

Edward smiled, kissing the dream-tangled crown of her head _good morning _as he wrapped his arms and their blankets around her.

"So don't go," he answered simply, brushing his thumb softly along her hairline and down, even softer along her ribbon. "I won't go either. Stay here. Play hooky with me."

Bella giggled, nodding her head and covering his neck with sleepy-headed, lighthearted little kisses.

Taking their time, upbeat and untroubled in their special day off together, Bella showered and made a small breakfast while Edward parted from her for only a few minutes to make a run to the store.

When he returned, it was with two pumpkins and a bottle of wine, a bag of candy and a handful of black and white movies.

Blankets on the couch, Bella Lugosi and Helen Chandler on the screen, two candlelit jack-o-lanterns making their living room glow, Edward and Bella spent their day playful in love. So in love, that their phones went unanswered and the wine went untouched.

Late in the afternoon, early evening, when the sun would just have been setting if it hadn't been raining, Edward moved slowly so as not to wake his sleeping love as he stood from their blanket-made nest on the couch.

Immediately feeling his absence, Bella reached her right hand out before she lifted her eyelids, humming a small sound that asked him to return.

"I'm just going to shower," he whispered, kissing her temple, sending her safely back toward rest.

She woke again and turned onto her back when she heard the water turn off some minutes later. Stretching her limbs and breathing in a yawn, she leaned up onto her elbows, rubbing the sleep from her eyes just as Edward stepped around the hallway corner.

Dark hair barely ruffled dry and only a towel tied low on his hips, the boy that made her heart beat harder, the man she'd given everything to and would again, and again if she could, smiled his sweetest smile right at her. Needy love blossomed in her little belly and she bent both her legs, reaching her hands out for him between her pajama covered knees.

It was her way of asking him with her shy eyes and lovey-dovey-lip-bitten smile to come closer and give to her.

Bella Marie's passion empowered Edward's. What started eager and intense on the couch, he picked up and carried to their room.

With soft street lamp light filtering in through their ivory-hued curtains, the no holds barred, seventh-heaven happiness was plain as day on his wife's face. Her bliss was unbound and unequaled, and he loved her like there was no end in sight.

The deeper he moved inside her, the more shallow her breaths came.

The lighter she breathed, the more attention the little grey bow around her neck drew from him.

Slowing down, rocking with a decadently deliberate rhythm against her hips, Edward slid his left hand under her neck like he did sometimes when they made love, arching her little secret under his mouth for kisses and small, sacred touches.

The feel of his lips and teeth, and breath against her most vulnerable dip of skin and ribbon, and bone sent Bella into visceral overdrive. She arched higher under him, pushing and pulling at his arms, his shoulders, anything and everything she could do to keep a hold of him as he pushed her over the edge.

In love with the feel of her so given to pleasure at his hands, his lips, his hips, Edward reverently worked her lissome little body for more, attentive to her every sound, devoted to her every fluttering heartbeat.

Close finally to his own edge, bordering on lost to the seemingly bottomless solace between them, longing that he'd shouldered for years upon years crept up his backbone and was on his lips, on her neck before he could help himself.

"Let me see you, baby," he breathed, resting his forehead against hers, taking her shallow little gasps into his own mouth with each kiss.

He wasn't asking her to tell him about the ribbon.

He wanted more.

He needed more and far away, in the hazy-back of her euphoria, Bella knew.

"Please," he asked, desperation deep, and dark, and erotic in his voice. "Let me take it off you. Let me untie you, beautiful love..."

Fear flickered awake inside her and he felt it, and pressed himself closer, determined to show her that his love was stronger than her despair.

Pleased and eased by his affection, Bella blinked her heavy eyelids open and looked up into clear blue.

She loved him, so much she loved him. He was so very everything to her and she knew in her heart of hearts that she'd found true happiness. She'd found home in him and so fulfilled, so wonderfully completed by his love, she finally, for the first time in her life, felt free.

The sensation was so all-consuming that Edward felt it too.

"There you are," he half exhaled, half groaned against her cheek, pushed to the greatest height his pleasure had ever known. "There you are. Let me take it off, baby. Let me see you..."

Reveling in the luscious feel of his devotion and her own surrender, Bella Marie nodded her head, _yes._

It was all she had to give and she was ready.

Victory rushed through Edward unlike anything he'd ever felt. He shifted his weight and brushed Bella's hair back from her face with his left hand, and angled her body by her hip with his right, opening her further for himself, pushing deeper.

He built their rhythm faster again, harder, until Bella couldn't take it, until all she felt was white hot bliss. No air. No thoughts. Just Edward, loving her.

He groaned above her, a sound that she recognized and that pushed her own heaven even higher. It was a sound that meant he was close, so close, burning at that point where it was so good it almost hurt. She knew and she wanted to be there with him.

Lifting her lashes once more to fill her eyes with the cherished sight of him working to complete her, she expected to see his eyebrows drawn together, his lips just parted, breathing hard. But the sight she looked up at just then was impossibly twice as nice.

His grin, that smirking simper she loved was curled up into his left cheek and it made her body blush from the inside. It sent her own ecstasy spinning out again and made her smile out loud, a breathless sound almost like a giggle. She shook hard and held onto him so tightly that she saw blindingly bright little stars everywhere.

Everywhere.

When she was still trembling around him, he slowed their loving. One hand at the small of her back, holding onto her as she rode out her pleasure, he moved his other into her hair, to the base of her head and the back of her neck.

He lifted her up a little, off their bed.

The feel of his palm and fingers through the slip of thin fabric resonated around her indulgence. She was so high in the sky, so without fear for the first time, that his touch felt like an echo. Surreal. Amazing. Right.

She cooed, lost, holding onto Edward as he brought his fingers around to the front of her neck, loving the dainty little bow, sliding his fingers to one of the two grey ends.

Bella Marie breathed in, so soft.

Her heart beat.

Holding carefully to everything he'd ever wanted, Edward took the slightest pull and the grey silk gave. The sound it made, of fabric slipping against fabric, was the lightest, most magnificent sound he'd ever heard.

As the two sides of the ribbon slid free from one another, little Bella choked, purely instinctual fears immediately clamoring up. Her hands fumbled against Edward's shoulders, trying so hard to hold on, but it was no use. With the small grey bow untied, her fate was fastened.

No longer attached to her neck, Bella's head fell back and off, and landed on their pillows.

Her heart went silent.

Within what would have been its next beat, her soul came up and out of her body, and sank against Edward, crying quietly, terrified and clinging.

Moving away from their bed, Edward tilted what felt like her chin up, making her look at him.

His eyes were no longer soft blue, but black, completely black. Even what should have been white was black and his teeth behind his slightly parted lips were fangs. He was ice cold against her and there were wings too, huge, larger than life wings above and behind him, coming out of his shoulders. They were black like his eyes and spreading further than Bella Marie could see in any direction, blocking out the warm autumn street lamp light that had just surrounded them, moments before.

She didn't know if she was alive or dead, or something in between. She had no idea what was real or what was happening, just that she was so terribly frightened.

Edward looked like the devil himself but she couldn't keep from clinging to him. She was petrified of letting go, so scared that it hurt.

_Why?_ She felt herself ask, but couldn't hear her own voice. She realized then she couldn't hear anything at all save for a distant, barely-there muffled thundering sound that she could hardly make out in all the heavy silence.

When Edward chuckled in response to her question, it was the same. She felt the sound instead of hearing it.

_You don't remember, little B?_ He asked her in return.

Bella Marie shook her head, shivering against his cold stomach and chest. She felt disembodied and didn't understand how she could be hurting without having a body, but there was the most painful aching inside her that came with not knowing what he was talking about, what was going on. The blankness inside her where memories should have been, the inability to remember, pierced and burned.

The devil carrying her hummed quietly and tenderly touched what felt like her cheek. His hand felt like wintertime. The faint thundering sound echoed inside her and felt closer, and something like memories rushed at his touch.

_She was young in the place where the heavens were created, where the planets and stars were aligned, and souls were born. They both were._

_Perfect innocence and perfect wickedness._

_From across the deep, ethereal distance, she called to him, a sound like a love song. One soul to its impeccable match._

_He was too beautiful for her not to want and he wanted more than anything to have her completely, only and all to himself. _

_She loved him, but his darkness frightened her so. She ached and suffered in his absence, but her fear was too great for her to give in to such depravity._

_To have her, for her to have him, she had to trust him absolutely. She had to completely surrender herself._

The thunder sound beat louder and the feelings like memories flurried closer, clearer for little Bella Marie.

_It was him, his fingers that tied the grey silk around her neck. That sought her out on Earth and made their love something she could touch and feel, and see, and hear. Something she could taste and trust._

Memories of moments ago that felt just as clear as all the others she was seeing, flashed for her.

She remembered granting him permission to untie the ribbon, giving him what she had always known inside would be the end of her life.

All that she had.

All that he wanted.

_It was him that filled her up and made her whole. That now, owned her in such a way that could never, ever be undone._

_Her soul would cling to his for eternity - immaculately soft light to sinfully pitch darkness._

As if reading her, as if her thoughts were as plain as words, the devil drew her closer to himself.

Bella Marie realized as he did so, that the thundering sound was coming from his chest and that it was the sound of her human heart, her life, beating inside him, inside damnation.

Familiar longing from lifetimes ago swirled with her terror and she felt his grip on her tighten.

What felt like her lips parted. She would have screamed if she could have, the mix of love and horror inside her blooming like the very sharpest tingle of pleasure.

"That's it, little B," she felt him whisper, teeth at her neck, his voice so freezing cold as he moved, his wings lifting them higher and surrounding them in deeper dark.

"Sing for me."

* * *

><p><em><strong>YellowGlue is the author of Worst of Weather and A Rose Like Thunder. She is also one half of YellowBella. While she has taken her beloved stories off of FFn, you can still check out her profile at <strong>__**http:/ www . fanfiction . net/u/2041943/YellowGlue**__** and get information about her new collab at **__**http:/ www . fanfiction . net/u/3154045/YellowBella**_

_**Tomorrow, we have a, ahem, unique new story from TuesdayMidnight. Just trust me when I say you won't want to miss it!**_


	8. Chapter 7: TuesdayMidnight

Edward sat back down and was met by the resounding silence of the group. He looked to Bella for her reaction, only to be met by a soft smile as she snuggled into his arms.

"Wow," Carlisle said.

"Yeah." Jasper shook his head and shot Emmett a dirty look before turning back to Edward. "I guess you're earning that Shakespeare nickname after all."

"Not so fast," Emmett interjected. "It's my turn next."

The collective groans from the group barely masked the sound of further movement in the woods, a rustling of leaves and a faint _clip-clopping_. A shiver ran down Bella's spine at the noise. She stiffened and looked behind her, but all she could make out through the darkness were the trees.

"Once upon an time," Emmett began.

"Ghost stories don't start out that way," Edward called out.

"Fine." Emmett cleared his throat. "It happened in California during the 1960s. Rosalie was a hippie, in every sense of the term, long hair, questionable hygiene, political activism, and a penchant for marijuana. At first, it didn't seem completely out of the ordinary, and that's where our story starts..."

* * *

><p><strong>The One-Eyed One-Horned Flying Purple People Eater<strong>

"Where were you last night, Rosie?" Emmett asked. "You were supposed to help us make posters for the rally."

Rosalie just entered the house where the eight friends lived together after she had been gone the entire night before. It wasn't unusual that any of them stay out all night, but it _was_ unusual for any of them not to tell one of their housemates where they were going. They were always open with each other. It was the only house rule, and it made living together copacetic.

Rosalie just waved her hand in Emmett's direction.

"Yes." Esme came into the room with her arms full of the protest sign they had made the night before. "We were worried about you. You heard about what happened to James when he took that bad acid and thought he was a vampire."

Emmett knew that Rosalie rarely did anything harder than Mary Jane, so he inspected her closer. Her pupils weren't dilated, but she looked completely mussed. Her skirt was on backward, her bra (which she refused to burn along with Esme, Bella and Alice) was in her hand, and her hair looked like she had been rolling around on the ground all night. All in all, she looked like she had been hit by a love train, so to speak.

As far as Emmett knew, Rosalie had completely sworn off men after a bad experience with some narc named Royce King. It was the reason why Emmett hadn't tried to make it with her after Carlisle invited her to live with them. If it was a woman who made Rosalie look like that, well, Emmett wanted to make sure he was around to watch the next time.

"I didn't take anything," Rosalie hummed, as she trudged toward the stairs. "It was just a magical evening."

"Sounds like she's been bitten by the love bug," Esme said with a knowing nod. She and Carlisle were the only two housemates who were completely monogamous. Although it was pretty obvious to Emmett that Edward only had eyes for Bella, she was also nailing some biker named Jacob who lived across the bay, so that didn't count.

Emmett just rolled his eyes at Esme and helped her carry the signs out to the VW. He hoped Rosalie was happy, but he was still suspicious. If she had actually been in love, she would have said something to one of them. They had no secrets between each other and very few boundaries.

No, something didn't quite add up.

The protest took Emmett's mind off of Rosalie's weird behavior for the rest of the day. There was good turn out, and Emmett was filled with the rush he always got when he felt like he was doing something that mattered. The fact that Jasper managed to score some killer weed didn't hurt either.

By the time they got home that night, he was in the zone. Emmett shared another joint with Jasper before calling it a night. He was completely sacked out by midnight and slept like a baby.

He had almost forgotten about Rosalie's weird behavior the day before. She seemed completely normal when she came down to the kitchen that morning while Emmett was eating breakfast. They both went about their regular morning routines as they got ready for work. Rosalie worked for Esme in her feminist bookstore while Emmett worked part time as a mechanic. It was honest work and Emmett enjoyed it, even if sometimes he felt a little like he was working for the man. He also did a lot of repair jobs on the side though, usually for trade, so he thought that kind of made up for it.

He was about ready to head out to the shop when Alice came strolling through the front door.

Her eyes were glassy, and her short, spiky hair looked like a bird had tried to nest in it. She was also singing softly to herself, which actually wasn't that unusual.

"You just getting home?" Emmett asked.

"What? Oh, I guess I am."

"Where did you go last night?" The last thing Emmett remembered from the previous night was Alice joining him and Jasper in finishing the joint. Emmett vaguely remembered her crawling into Jasper's lap and giggling. It certainly seemed like they had been about to shag.

If they did, it was clear that Alice's night hadn't ended there.

Emmett was getting even more suspicious, but Alice seemed just as chatty about it as Rosalie had the day before, that is, not chatty at all. Something was up. Emmett knew it.

It turned out he had good reason to be suspicious. Every night that week, one of his friends disappeared, returning the next day with a weird grin and a glassy look over their eyes. After Rosalie and Alice, Emmett finally tried to reason to himself that it was some dude who had really good shrooms and a big dick, but on Wednesday when Jasper wandered in the front door with the exact same thoroughly fucked look on his face, Emmett started to think something else was going on.

"What happened, Jazz?" he asked cautiously.

"Huh?" Jasper asked.

"Where were you last night?"

"Oh, man. I don't really- I just- it was like- you know, and I was so full. It was totally transcendent, man. Like, life-changing and shit."

"Uh huh," Emmett replied. Usually Emmett could speak fluent stoner, but Jasper was making even less sense than usual.

The next day, things got really weird. As Emmett was leaving for the shop that morning, the front door swung open revealing Edward, the candyass who Emmett secretly thought of as "most likely to sell out." His perfect coif was matted against his forehead, and his pupils were blown such that if it were anyone else, Emmett would have thought he was tripping.

"Edward?" Emmett asked cautiously.

Edward looked completely surprised to see Emmett. He didn't say anything, but his face turned bright red in embarrassment.

"Stay out all night then?" Emmett asked. It was such an un-Edward-like thing to do. If it hadn't been a part of this weird pattern with all the rest of his housemates, Emmett probably would have teased him mercilessly for it.

"I- I guess I did," Edward said.

His eyes were starting to focus again, but he still looked like a blushing school girl.

"Looks like you had a good time then?"

"Um... yes, yes I really- I did." He nodded, but there was still a confused look on his face.

"I guess I'll see you later," Emmett said. He didn't think he was going to get anything else out of Edward. The poor guy looked confused. As Emmett left, he turned to look over his shoulder to see Edward walking awkwardly toward the kitchen.

It wasn't coincidence anymore. His friends were going somewhere and coming back looking completely sexed out of their gourds. Emmett wondered if it wasn't some new super drug or something, but it wasn't like any of them to just take random street drugs, especially Edward. The weirdest part was that they all came back looking exactly the same – deliriously happy but exhausted.

The most bizarre part, though, was that none of them seemed willing or able to fill Emmett in with details the next day. They didn't know exactly where they went or who they were with, and so far no one had gone back a second time.

Emmett just didn't have enough to go on to put all the pieces together. None of them seemed harmed by it, though, so he considered dropping it and chalking it up to one of those strange things that happens when you live near Haight-Ashbury.

That night, he overheard something that made him change his mind completely.

After work, he just wanted to kick back a little, maybe get stoned, so he went up to Jasper's room to find him. Jasper worked in a head shop and always had access to the best grass. When Emmett got upstairs, Jasper's door was closed. That alone was pretty much a rarity in the house. Until this week with the mysterious morning returns, there wasn't any hiding.

Emmett was just about to barge in, figuring the wind had blown it shut or something, when he heard voices inside.

"Hold still, E," he heard Jasper say.

"It's not the same," Edward replied with a whine.

"Yeah, but it's better than nothing," Jasper grunted.

Some muffled noises that Emmett couldn't distinguish came next, but suddenly it became quite obvious.

"Oh fuck yes," Edward cried out. "Yes, yes, not exactly it, but- oh, right there, Jazz. Right there."

Emmett covered his hands over his ears and ran down the hallway, pretending he didn't hear what he heard. He was all for free love, don't get him wrong, he just did not need to hear two of his best friends having butt sex.

He didn't stop running until he was outside, where he sat down on the front steps and put his head in his hands. Jasper would pretty much try to score with anything that moved, including Emmett one time when they were both really gassed, but Edward was usually a total square. Edward wasn't judgmental in the least, but he knew his limitations and didn't push it. Plus, he was completely stupid for Bella.

Whatever happened to Edward the night before had affected him more than Emmett had previously thought. It had at least changed him enough for him to be letting it all hang out. He was currently getting fucked in the ass by one of his best friends.

The only explanation Emmett could come up with was that there was some kind of sex god roaming the streets, taking in hapless strangers, shagging them all night, and then sending them home. Maybe it also cursed them into wanting more sex or something. Alice had taken a tumble with Emmett the day after her return, but that was completely normal behavior for her. She might have been a little more insistent than usual, but it wasn't really out of the ordinary either. Then again, Emmett thought about it, Alice had taken a lot longer to get off than usual.

That wasn't normal.

Damn the infernal sex god.

Emmett thought about going out that night to try to track down the mysterious sex god, but after Edward and Jasper emerged from Jasper's room, they decided to get blitzed, and Emmett wasn't about to turn that down.

He was so hungover the next morning that he almost missed Carlisle _and _Esme wandering into the house around noon. They were holding hands and giggling.

Emmett's jaw dropped, but he couldn't bring himself to ask any questions. Even though he knew Carlisle and Esme weren't exactly shy about sex, he didn't want to think about them being involved in a threesome with the as-yet-to-be-named sex god.

It was later that day when Emmett realized the only two left in the house who didn't experience this weird abduction were himself and Bella.

That night, Emmett stayed awake. He knew that either he or Bella was next. He carefully watched Bella go upstairs to bed around midnight, so he parked himself down in the living room in the darkness of night, waiting to see if Bella left to go meet this mysterious sex god.

Sure enough, at around 2 a.m. Emmett heard a creaking noise on the stairs. A few moments later, he saw Bella walking down them.

She was fully dressed in the clothes she had worn that day, and she was walking as if she were awake. Everything seemed completely normal, until Emmett got a look at her eyes.

They were glowing yellow.

He had to put his hand over his mouth to keep from shouting out. She looked completely freaky.

It was clear she took no notice of Emmett, which made it all the more easy for him to follow her out of the house. She took a quick right and then a left and another right down a shady looking alley, until she stopped in front of a completely nondescript door. Emmett didn't recognize the building. He assumed it was some random office building, so he had never paid it much mind before.

Bella disappeared into the door. Emmett gave it a minute before creeping toward the building. He pressed his ear against the door first. He didn't hear any voices, but after a few minutes, he did hear strangled noises that sounded like they were coming from Bella.

He pushed open the door slowly and quietly and then peered through. There was just enough light from the street for him to make out the scene.

There was Bella, lying with her legs splayed open, getting fucked by a giant, monster penis.

Emmett's mouth dropped open in shock.

It wasn't possible. It couldn't be real. Emmett was expecting some kind of sex god that looked human, but this was something else entirely. There was no way a very realistic, fleshy looking penis could be floating by itself in midair, pushing in and out of Bella's cunt like the ship was going down.

Emmett rubbed his eyes. It had to be a bad trip. He would wake up in the morning and this would all be a completely fuzzy memory.

But he knew that wasn't true. He hadn't taken anything.

No, what he was seeing was real.

It was a huge dick.

It had been fucking his friends one by one, pleasuring them in ways they had never previously imagined. Emmett thought back to Alice and then to Edward and Jasper, and he wondered if this ruined them from sex with normal, human sized cocks.

Of course, that shouldn't have bee his first worry.

All of his housemates had been inexplicably drawn to the monster cock, one after another. Emmett knew that Bella was under some type of compulsion. That was the only way he could imagine Edward or Rosalie there as well.

"Shit," he whispered into the night.

He was the only one left.

Emmett would swear up and down later that the monster dick pulled out of Bella and turned its head toward him. Then it opened its slit and snapped ferocious teeth at him.

That's when he knew he was fucked.

* * *

><p><em><strong>TuesdayMidnight is the author of Seven Minutes in Heaven, Raw and Rosy and more one-shots than you can shake a stick at. She recently posted her Twilight Big Bang fic, Turn and Face the Strange. Check out all of her wonderful words at <span>http: www . fanfiction . net/u/1993632/tuesdaymidnight**_

_**Join us tomorrow for the final chapter, when TheLadyInGrey42 brings the evening to a close ...**_


	9. Chapter 8: Postlude by TheLadyInGrey42

Edward spat half his beer across the fire.

Jasper had his hands over his face and most of the women looked ready to throw up.

Really, the only people who didn't look completely put off by the story were Carlisle and Esme. No one else wanted to think too much about that.

"Seriously?" Alice asked, throwing her hands up in the air. "What the fuck, Emmett?"

Emmett leaned back and popped another marshmallow in his mouth. "What can I say? It's not my fault all you guys liked the monster cock."

"You told the story!" Edward said, breaking in. "Of course it's your fault!"

With his head still in his hands, Jasper groaned. "Can we _please_ move on? And never let Emmett talk again? Ever?"

"Show of hands?" Rosalie suggested.

Every one of them lifted their hands, mumbling, "Agreed," and, "Amen," with varying levels of shuddering and dismay.

"Whatever," Emmett huffed. Talking around the half-dozen marshmallows he'd crammed into his mouth, he pointed to Jasper. "You're up anyway. Let's see you try to do better."

"So not going to be a problem." Jasper stood and lifted the flashlight to his chin. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, though, there was a cracking boom in the distance that made everyone jump.

And then… neighing?

The rest of the gang shifted in their seats nervously. On some level, they were getting used to the weird noises and interruptions. On another, they were all just getting more and more freaked out.

Jasper held out an imperious hand, as if to silence them all. "You guys ready?"

Emmett, who had at least pretended to remain unphased by the strange noises, just grunted and said, "Go for it."

"Very well." As he assumed his best professorial pose, he looked at the assembled group as if they were his students. The others braced themselves as a hint of his Texan accent began to poke through his speech, foretelling that they all could be in for a long story, indeed. "If you listen, maybe you guys will even learn something."

* * *

><p>The year was 1864. The place, rural Georgia.<p>

The tide of the American Civil War was changing. After years of stalemate and bloodshed, the Union had found a new general in Ulysses Grant. Along with his compatriots, William Tecumseh Sherman and Philip Sheridan, Grant had adopted a strategy of total war in a bid to bring the South back under the heel of the Union, once and for all. No longer content with breaking the back of the army, Grant was intent on breaking the very will of the South to fight, destroying its land, its crops, its people.

Against this backdrop, Jasper Whitlock rode out from his farm one morning to bring his goods to market. He left his beloved wife Alice and his children, Carlisle, Rosalie and Edward behind. With his best horses hitched to his wagon, he faced a red, bloody dawn.

He had no idea how bloody it would be.

After a long day of bartering and trading, Jasper turned back toward home, only to see a cloud of dust on the horizon. A strange sense of foreboding filled him, and he set off down the road with his heart in his throat.

The first signs that something was wrong didn't come until he'd crossed the river and back into his family's lands. A thick black smoke filled the air. Heart pounding, Jasper looked toward the top of the hill, only to see a huge column of smoke, rising.

He jumped from the seat of the wagon, pausing only long enough to grab his rifle from where it rested at his feet. Grateful that he'd brought him, Jasper unhooked his stallion from the wagon and hopped on top of the great beast's back. With neither rein nor spurs, he kicked the horse's sides and grabbed its mane, screaming at it to fly like the wind.

It wasn't fast enough.

Before he'd even crested the hill, the carnage was clear. Where his family farm had stood for hundreds of years, there was now a charred ruin. Nothing had been left behind. Not his crops, not his barn.

Not his home.

"Dear Lord, no," he groaned. Riding the horse for all he was worth, Jasper rode straight into the devastation, calling the names of his wife and children again and again.

Just when he had given up hope, he heard a faint cry from beneath the debris. He jumped down from his horse and began sifting through the still-smoking ruins, paying no attention to the heat as the cinders burned his skin. At long last, there was a heaving cough, and Jasper saw the burnt remnants of a door shake with the sound. He tore the door away and flung it to the side, dropping to his knees when he saw the ash-covered face of his youngest son.

"Papa," Edward said, coughing and wheezing.

"Shh, son." Jasper hauled another beam from Edward 's body, only to have the boy let loose a blood-curdling scream. In horror, Jasper looked down.

His son's body was broken. The spine twisted, his lower half soaked in blood. He would never survive.

Letting the tears flow freely now, Jasper cradled Edward 's head and hugged the boy's body close against his chest.

A wracking cough shook Edward 's frame. "They came from nowhere. We begged them to have mercy."

Jasper didn't want to ask. He didn't. But he had to. "Your mother? Carlisle and Rosalie?"

"They killed Carlisle. Mom and sis they rode off with."

The grief was a thick, punching pressure in Jasper's chest. But it was nothing to the rage. Nothing.

He pushed both down for a little longer. Rocking his son, he told the boy to be quiet and to be still. He told him he loved him. Within minutes, the boy's last breaths had passed.

With the sun low on the horizon, Jasper scoured the ruins until he found Carlisle's body. He buried both of his son's beneath the canopy of an old oak, beside his father and his mother, he grandfather and great grandfather. As twilight dawned, Jasper Whitlock rose from his crouch, hands covered in earth and blood.

Then he let the rage consume him.

Without another moment's hesitation, he summoned his horse to him and swung his rifle on his back, along with whatever else he had been able to scavenge: a pistol, an axe, two knives and a saw. Most notably, he retrieved from his wagon the confederate flags his wife had sewn and which he had been meant to deliver to the army's training encampment while he was in town.

It did not take long to catch up to the Union scum. They had left a trail of destruction from his home to the nearby river where they were making camp. Jasper waited for nightfall, secured his horse and then crept into the enemy's base.

The sentries he killed by hand, slitting their throats with silent, deadly precision. He then returned for his horse and strapped a flag to his back. With no intentions of returning, he rode into the camp, weapons cocked and ready.

The sleepy soldiers were taken entirely unaware. One by one, he gunned them down, trampling others. A few he beheaded with his axe. The only time he ever paused was when he hit the center of the camp.

When he saw what had been done to the remains of his beloved daughter and his beautiful wife.

From that point on, he saw only red.

The first enemy's bullet hit him in the shoulder. The second in the leg. Even when his horse collapsed and he was left a vulnerable man on foot, he swung and shot, intent on taking down every last one of the Yankee bastards that had destroyed his life.

Finally, a rifle shot to the back brought him to his knees. He dropped his weapons, and through the haze of blood, he locked eyes with the commander of the Union troops.

With his last breath, he panted, "I shall hunt you until the last day of your life. Until the last day of your son's son's son's son's life. I shall never rest. Never."

The Union soldier fired one last shot, a round that landed true between the crazed southerner's eyes.

Jasper Whitlock's body was strung up from the highest tree and left to hang there all night.

Only, in the morning, when the soldiers emerged from their bedrolls and their tents, it was to find an empty noose dangling from the tree branch. Every sign of Jaspers Whitlock – every sign but for the Confederate flag draped atop the commander's tent, was gone.

Inside the tent, they found the commander, one Major Emmett McCarty the First, with his throat slit, his eyes wide, his face frozen in a mask of horror.

Almost as if he had seen a ghost.

They say the ghost of Jasper Whitlock still roams the woods of these United States. He hunts down any Yankees that dare to set foot on what he considers his lands. And more than anything else, he haunts the descendants of that Union soldier and any who keep company with him.

Sometimes, at night, you can hear him in the woods. You'll know him by the sounds of horse hooves in the distance and the shooting of a rifle.

But more than anything, you'll know him by the flag he drapes over the bodies of his victims. It is a warning to those who find them that the war is not over. That violence shall meet violence.

And that the South shall rise again

* * *

><p>A hushed silence fell over the campfire as Jasper finished telling his story. For a few moments, his friends sat there, agape.<p>

The silence was only broken when Emmett lobbed a marshmallow at Jasper's head. "That wasn't a ghost story! That was a history lesson!"

At just that second, there was another loud boom from somewhere in the distance. While Emmett continued to look unaffected, some of the other's around the fire glanced around uneasily.

Finally, Bella was the one to ask, "Hey, Emmett. Aren't you Emmett McCarty the Fifth?"

"Yeah, so?"

Bella counted on her fingers. "Well, supposed the crazy guy in the story was going after the commander's son's son's son's son. Which would be… you."

"Whatever," Emmett scoffed. "My family's from Tennessee."

"Only about three generations back," Rosalie reminded him. "Before that, I think they were Yanks."

"Still…" Even Emmett was starting to look creeped out.

"Well," Esme said, clapping her hands and standing. "I don't know about you, but I'm pretty tired."

Carlisle was by her side in an instant. "Me, too, love."

Bella looked at Edward and then back at the others, casting a wary eye into the darkness of the woods as she agreed, "Yeah, I guess it is getting late."

The rest of them all hesitated until Jasper spoke up. "Come on guys. It was just a story."

The friends traded uneasy looks around the fire, but with Jasper's reassurance, they started to rise.

"I mean," Jasper continued, "it _probably _isn't true. I don't think."

Alice scowled, then grabbed Jasper by the hand and dragged him back to their tent before he could say anything more.

The others did some basic cleanup, dousing the fire and locking up the marshmallows – whether to keep them safe from a bear or from Emmett's nocturnal snacking, no one would specify – the whole time looking over their shoulders, as if there could be something in the darkness…

In the morning, the friends woke to find the world bright, the sun shining. As it poured in through the fabric of their tents, it helped dispel all the uneasiness of the previous night.

After giving Edward a quick kiss on the lips, Bella stretched and rose. She pulled back the flap of the tent, only to stop cold.

Draped over the remnants of their fire was a Confederate flag.

She clapped her hand over her mouth and stumbled backward. Torn between her very real fright and her skepticism, sure that at any second Jasper or Emmett would jump out and say 'boo' and laugh at her for being scared, she repressed the hysteria rising up in her throat.

With a sleepy expression on his face, Edward sat up and scratched his head. "What is it, babe?"

Bella could just point.

Edward followed her gaze, and his mouth fell open. "What the fuck?"

While he, too, had some misgivings, he immediately smelled a rat. He clambered out of the tent and strode over to the flag, all the while, grumbling not-too-quietly, "Very funny, assholes."

But then he saw the hoof prints.

A knife, covered in red.

An expended… that couldn't be a rifle shell.

Louder now, he called to the whole camp. "Seriously guys. This isn't funny."

One by one, the flaps of the other tents opened, and unhappy campers poked their heads out. All their protestations about the early hour died down once they saw what was going on in the center of their campsite.

Edward glanced around, satisfied everyone was accounted for. Everyone except—

A piercing scream rent the air, and all eyes went to Alice and Jasper's tent. Edward took off at a dead run, reaching it just as Alice tumbled out of it, clutching a flag.

"He wasn't there. Jasper's gone. He's—"

"Shh." Edward wrapped his arms around her, sure this was just a prank, but still uneasy about the whole thing. "I'm sure he's…"

"Um. Guys?"

At the sound of Rosalie's voice, Edward whipped around, finding her and Emmett on the edge of their campsite, staring into the bushes, their faces pale. He started walking Alice over toward where they were standing, but her body crumpled as the sight before them became clear. As his stomach lurched upward, Edward pulled Alice closer, putting his hand over her eyes to shield her, but it was too late. She'd already seen.

There, on the ground, Jasper was sprawled out, white as death, blood everywhere, running from the huge gash in his throat and the hundred other tiny lacerations.

Emmett clapped his hands over his face. "I thought the crazy ghost wanted me."

"This can't be real. This can't be real."

Bella caught up with them, but the instant she saw, she turned away, gagging. "Oh my God."

Carlisle stepped forward, his medical training kicking in and helping him remain steady. He glanced at each of his friends in turn, as if searching their faces for something. "I guess someone should…" When no one stepped forward, he sighed and knelt beside Jasper's body. Hesitantly, hands shaking, he reached out to feel his friend's pulse.

The instant before he made contact, Jasper's eyes opened, and he sat up, bowling Carlisle backwards.

"Oh hey, guys," Jasper said, grinning. With the bleeding wound on his neck, the smile looked particularly garish. "Why didn't y'all wake me?"

"Why you little—" In a ball of fury, Alice launched herself at him, smacking him with his beloved flag over and over. "You had me believing—"

There were a lot of other choice curse words. Some of the other friends wanted to tell Jasper off, too, but at the increasing pitch of Alice's tirade, they figured he was getting enough of a tongue-lashing as it was. They started drifting off, fixing coffee and breakfast. Eventually, Alice screamed a series of unintelligible words and stalked off. Moments later, a sheepish, still- blood covered Jasper joined the rest of the crew around the fire.

Still frowning, Edward passed him a cup of coffee.

He took it and thanked him. "Guess I may have taken things to far, huh?"

"Ya think?"

Jasper shrugged. "It was all in good fun."

"Seriously, though," Edward said. "Noises in the woods? Shell casings? A knife? Hoof prints?"

With each word, Jasper's eyes grew wider and wider, his mouth gaping. "Wait, what?"

"Look!" Incredulous, Edward pointed at all the evidence strewn around the fire pit.

Jasper stood up, knocking his camp chair over in his haste. "I didn't – I didn't do that. Those aren't mine."

Edward rolled his eyes. "Sure. You've had your fun, you know. We're not going to fall for—"

Just then, there was another sound, like horse hooves in the distance. Edward swallowed, and he and Jasper traded frightened looks.

Jasper glanced at his wrist, which was remarkably devoid of a watch. "Well, look at the time," he said, voice hitching.

"Oh, yeah, it's getting late," Edward agreed. "Time to get this show on the road."

They began hurriedly packing up the campsite. When the others expressed their confusion at the sudden urgency, they each waved the others off, citing an interest in getting back home. Although there were a lot of shrugs, eventually everyone acquiesced, and in no time they were heading back down the trail toward their cars.

Just before they exited the clearing, Edward took one last glance behind him, checking, he told himself, for anything they might have left behind.

Motion in the tree took him by surprise, and he squinted, barely breathing as he peered into the foliage. That wasn't—It couldn't be—

A ghostly figure darted in and out of sight, sitting tall atop a horse.

With a little, muffled scream, Edward picked up his pace and ran after the others.

A low chuckle of laughter followed after him. The moment he caught up with everyone else, he chanced one last look back through the trees. But there was nothing there. Nothing there at all.

The darkness of the moment quickly faded as they all fell back into their usual banter. But more than once, Edward and Jasper locked eyes, a dark understanding passing between them.

Neither would ever look at a night of ghost stories quite the same again.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Aaaaaaaaaaaaand, that's a wrap. Thanks so much for reading this little project of ours. Extra special thanks to bmango, mskathy, sorceresscirce, tuesdaymidnight, and yellowglue for going camping with us and writing such fabulous stories.<em>**

**_Happy Halloween!  
><em>**

**_Love,  
>- lawngirl and theladyingrey42<br>_**


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